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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28779327">Live Wire: Do not Touch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanxiaolian/pseuds/tanxiaolian'>tanxiaolian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wrath Incarnate [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bisexual Male Character, Character Study, Coming of Age, Dubious Morality, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Humour, Imperial Society, M/M, Mild Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Graphic Attempted Rape, Non-Graphic Smut, Perilous grasp on social norms, Sith Shenanigans (Star Wars), Slavery, Sociopathic Tendendencies, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, Worldbuilding, Xenophobia, creepy thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:02:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>34,822</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28779327</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanxiaolian/pseuds/tanxiaolian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Conceptually, pain and pleasure are disturbingly similar.<br/>If you're strong enough, you actually get to choose which one you would like. And when.<br/>Choices matter, don't they? </p><p>Or: Vignettes of the relationships on the path to power of one Darth Nox, former slave, Dark Councillor, reluctant Alliance supporter and almost-Emperor.</p><p>A generous amount of worldbuilding and analysis thrown in for good measure.</p><p>Not a game retelling. </p><p>Ch1: SI/Major Ilun (then Cpt.) - Coming-of-Age, Sexual Favours<br/>Ch2: SI &amp; Sentry Yashia - Responsibilty, Cruelty<br/>Ch3: SI/Ashara - Pain, Loyalty<br/>Ch4: SI &amp; Vette, SI/Fem Sith Warrior (past) - Slavery, Imperial Society<br/>Ch5: SI/Major Ilun - Politics, Ambition, Sexual Tension<br/>Ch6: SI/Theron Shan - Trust, "Fuck-or-Die"<br/>Ch7: SI/Theron Shan - Spy games, Politics<br/>Ch8: SI/Ilun - Power dynamics, betrayal</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Male Sith Inquisitor/Ashara Zavros, Male Sith Inquisitor/Female Sith Warrior, Male Sith Inquisitor/Major Ilun, Theron Shan/Male Sith Inquisitor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wrath Incarnate [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Friction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Embellishment of possible canon, but the SI is not the Outlander. It occasionally touches on intersections with the SW (eventual) Outlander's story, but that's a minor element.</p><p>Provides background on the SI character in my main story "Grand Plans" and is "canon" to it, but it is a stand-alone piece requiring no knowledge of that AU.</p><p>"Dubious Consent" when applying to major characters in this story means "occasionally dubious reasons for consenting" rather than "could be rape if you squint". </p><p>Non-Con warning (non-explicit) for Chapter 2 only.</p><p>Comments are very much appreciated, though they seem to be a rarity for my stories *shrugs*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="a3s aiL">
  <p> </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p></p>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
    <p> </p>
    <p> </p>
    <p> </p>
    <p></p>
    <div>
      <p><em>“You smell like smoke and blood. Let me show you something.”</em><strong> - </strong>Darth Lachris</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>
        <strong>10 ATC, Balmorra</strong>
      </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p> </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>What you generally don’t consider about merrily wading through the blood of your enemies is that it is quite sticky and, like all body fluids, starts to smell terribly after a while. The Colicoid-infested sewers had added their own annoyingly pungent note to the rich bouquet.</p>
      <p>With a defeated sigh, Roshinn decided that his cloak was unsalvageable and took it off to chuck it into the burning heap that remained of the cannon. So what if he was a little underdressed? All things considered, you could hardly be underdressed for a dump like Balmorra, and it was unlikely he’d run into Darth Lachris again anytime soon, so he had little need for playing the part of the dashing apprentice up for anything that would advance his quest for power and recognition.</p>
      <p>Hm, that came out sounding a little desperate.</p>
      <p>Maybe not as desperate as the new Governor of Balmorra, suggesting to celebrate such a decisive victory in an intimate fashion. Was that something people did in the real world? Judging from what he had seen of Imperial society so far, Roshinn would not rule it out. Then again, the behaviour of the acolytes on Korriban was hardly a good standard for how an upstanding citizen behaved. Sith were above the rules, of course, but if they all went around spending their days fighting and fucking each other, the Empire was doomed anyway -<em> thanks for trying, but no thanks, let’s </em><em>party unto death.</em></p>
      <p>Hence, you had to draw the line somewhere. Had he misinterpreted her subtle gestures and words – after all, wouldn’t someone of her status abhor the idea of getting frisky with an <em>alien</em>? Or had he thrown away the unique opportunity to cement their tentative alliance further?</p>
      <p>Nah, there probably was little point to taking such an approach. If the experiences of his youth had taught him anything, it was that while the cocksuckers might get dressed up prettily for a bit and get fed delicate morsels of something that actually passes for food, they were the first to end up in the waste disposal with a slit throat as soon as their owners got bored of playing with them. A hard worker who kept their head down was more difficult to replace than a toy. Until they were no longer content with being meek and submissive.</p>
      <p>Submissiveness was not a trait befitting a Sith.</p>
      <p>If they wouldn’t remember him for doing what the Imperial army had been unable to, a tryst was not going to make an indelibly favourable impression. On the contrary, inexperienced as he was, it could have gone rather badly, and drawing the ire of an influential Dark Lord of the Sphere of Defense of the Empire in such an embarassingly stupid way was not something he was keen on explaining to Zash.</p>
      <p>Besides, Lachris hadn’t really been his type. Roshinn wasn’t sure he had one, but it was definitely not a dominating human female more than two times his age with a garishly painted, pallid face. Paleness was weirdly common with the Imperial upper class and especially so among human Sith, with Zash being a rare exception. He figured it had something to do with how far you delved into the Dark Side or used arcane powers … however, Zash was hardly one to shy away from esoteric knowledge, she lapped it up greedily. Perhaps his master was just one of the fortunate few who got to keep their good looks despite the corruption hidden beneath. Damn, he really hated the customary term of address, but the upside of being Sith was that – among other fun things – you get to kill your master in the end and it’s not frowned upon if you do it well. As opposed to immediately getting executed when you’re a lowly slave for so much as considered standing up against your owner. Or, if you were “lucky”, getting shipped off to Korriban.</p>
      <p>Lucky, indeed.</p>
      <p>Even minus the cloak, he owned more items of clothing now than ever – fine, technically, he had not owned <em>anything</em> before, so clothing was probably a very mundane thing to get excited about. Besides, the climate was mild. He had traversed a good part of Korriban’s tombs barefoot, it could hardly get worse than slipping on K’lor’slug goo. Maybe slipping on liquefied Tuk’ata brains, but that might be Malora’s kink, not his.</p>
      <p>Albeit an uptight bunch, the Imperials wouldn’t be too scandalised by seeing bare arms and shoulders, would they? If they were indeed traumatised by him flaunting his deep green skin, they really did deserve it.</p>
      <p>So, who did he have to give these security keys to again? Didn’t the guy have a scar or something? These uniformed humans looked all the same, like domesticated womp rats scuttling around.</p>
      <p>The officer hadn’t seemed in a particular hurry to decrypt enemy communications. Maybe. At least he hadn’t shouted at Roshinn, almost flailing his arms in panic, like many others had. (<em>“Sith!” - Um, hey idiot, sir, </em><em>hail the Emperor</em><em> or whatever, but last time I checked, </em>Sith<em> wasn’t a rank or a title? </em>Ah, the many indignities you have to suffer before gaining real power.) You would think that they had a whole army and Intelligence goons at their disposal so that they would not have to rely on Sith apprentices to run errands like assassinations and reconnaissance. But Zash was exceedingly patient with him and so he wanted to pay that forward by indulging their inane requests. It also couldn’t hurt to gain a few allies in the military by making yourself useful, could it? Best case, they might stop looking at aliens as if they were freaks.</p>
      <p>Was that too much to hope for, though? Feeling their glances on his back everywhere he went, Roshinn was content knowing that he could simply zap them with lightning on the spot, infliction various levels of pain at his leisure – and most importantly, they knew it, too. Others were not afforded the luxury of such raw power. They could only dabble with illusory variants of it – ranks and epaulettes, money and spread legs - in hopes of ingratiating themselves with those actually holding their leashes. At long last, it came down to another mangled body added to the trash compactor.</p>
      <p>So.</p>
      <p>Choices, choices. So many paths in front of him.</p>
      <p>Shower first.</p>
      <p>There had to be some hapless Ensign at the camp he could bully into giving him the access codes for a private sonic booth without having to go through High Command, or at the very least filling out a lenghty request form. The Empire sure loved their bloody flimsiwork.</p>
      <p> </p>
      <p>#~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~#</p>
      <p> </p>
      <p>Bad news. The guy he was supposed to brief about his findings was missing in action. Void no, let them sort out their own mess this time. By this point, Roshinn wanted nothing more than to get off the planet. The scenery was nice, marred a little by the many factories dotting the landscape, but ultimately, he was done with Balmorra.</p>
      <p>He had to pass through Sobrik anyway, so he’d just dump the keys and the banged-up datapad on Major Ilun’s desk to be done with it. As newly promoted chief supply officer, stuff like that fell under his purview anyway.</p>
      <p>Right?</p>
      <p>Frankly, Roshinn cared little about military matters. Force, what were these people doing, apart from whining about how rarely supply drops came in? If the rebels could turn Bormu poodoo into grenades, maybe those posh Imperials should get off their collective arses and get their gloved hands dirty, too.</p>
      <p>Regardless, he had fulfilled his part, they could not expect him to trudge across the steppe again in search for a random officer. Zash probably had a much more important, not to mention actually intriguing and challenging, assignment lined up for him.</p>
      <p>A cruel grin flitted across the young Mirialan’s face. Ilun had said he would always be welcome to return, had he not? He had not indicated that he meant <em>his office </em>specifically, but it could not hurt to drop by. At worst he’d get flustered and spout more fawning drivel.</p>
      <p>Let’s see if he is as grateful in person as he was over the holo-call.</p>
      <p> </p>
      <p>#~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~#</p>
      <p> </p>
      <p>“Oh.” Major Ilun practically jumped up from his work and rounded his desk to greet his visitor, nearly knocking over his seat in the process. “I did not expect your return so soon, my lord. What do you require of me?”</p>
      <p>Roshinn tossed the encryption cylinders and the datapad onto the conference table carelessly. The older man relaxed his posture as he examined the items before standing at parade rest, a quizzical look on his face.</p>
      <p>“The officer who wanted these retrieved is taking an extended holiday in the Makaran Plains or something along those lines. I need someone to take them off my hands before I depart.”</p>
      <p>“Of course, I shall see to it that they will be put to proper use. I suppose there’s the matter of your reward…” Ilun cleared his throat awkwardly. “Unless you were promised credits, we’re bled dry until the next shipments come in. Which won’t be for another three days.”</p>
      <p>Oh, no, he is going to make things complicated. “Don't bother. There is nothing you could give me.” The young apprentice glanced around the familiar room, noticing that while things were arranged significantly more orderly than before, the place was cluttered with much more stuff in general. “Adapting well to your new job?”</p>
      <p>Ilun regarded him warily. “I endeavour to excel, my lord. Overall, the scope of my responsibilities has not changed overly much. As for improving the supply chain, there is no time to lose, considering how low morale already is. I should take the opportunity once more to thank you for-” The words died on his lips as he saw the immediate shift in the Sith’s expression.</p>
      <p>“Yes, congratulations and all that. Spare me the bootlicking.” When the new resources officer opened his mouth to protest, Roshinn added quickly, “and don’t apologise yet <em>again</em>. This whole chain of events is unfortunate enough as is.”</p>
      <p>“A pity.” Ilun agreed, watching him guardedly. “Bessiker was a good man. All things considered.”</p>
      <p>Interesting choice of words. “Not a good officer, though?” Roshinn proddded slyly. “Seemed somewhat scatterbrained to me.”</p>
      <p>The major remained silent, but he had said enough already. Not afraid to give veiled criticism, despite profiting personally from the outcome. Unusual for an Imperial. Ilun was right about one thing – the entire affair had been completely preventable.</p>
      <p>“His naivete would have caught up with him sooner or later. Nevertheless, I had no personal grievance with him - he attacked me. Do you know <em>why</em> I killed his son?” Roshinn wasn't sure why he bothered to explain himself in the first place, but he had the sudden urge to make the officer understand his motives.</p>
      <p>The older man furrowed his brows in response. “The cameras did not pick up on the entirety of your conversation with him.” The unspoken thought – <em>since when do Sith need a reason to kill each other</em> – hung in the air between them.</p>
      <p>Not an unreasonable assumption, but that wasn’t the full extent of it. Sure, he had been curious, to say the least, regarding the powerful artefact Hiran had foolishly bragged about. If that had been his sole motivation, he would have been rather disappointed to find something as mundane as a broken lightsabre he had little use for at the end of the treasure hunt. No, the other apprentice’s loose tongue had sealed his fate incredibly quickly.</p>
      <p>“Imagine someone so xenophobic as to repeatedly insult the one tasked with rescuing them.”</p>
      <p>Ilun winced slightly, perhaps at the sheer stupidity of it. “A well-deserved punishment, then. Considering your immense contributions to the Empire’s war effort, it is particularly regrettable that he won’t be the last to utter disrespectful remarks about you. However, you shall find me...” Ilun gave him an excruciatingly slow once-over while he spoke, his voice a little lower (huskier?) than before, “far more … open-minded.”</p>
      <p>Roshinn tilted his head in abject confusion, unsure how to read the situation.</p>
      <p>To break the grating lull in conversation, the officer added after a few moments, “as an aside, I am glad Doctor Tyrek’s second defection attempt was foiled. I was informed we have you to thank you for that, too?”</p>
      <p>Truth be told, Roshinn had been prepared to let the pitiful scientist go. It wasn’t his problem if the Imperials couldn’t keep their own personnel in line. Somehow, he doubted the Republic would have welcomed him back with open arms when his absence had come about under quite odd circumstances in the first place. Asking him to sign the orders to let the scientist pass unimpeded took things one step too far – as a mere apprentice, he could not afford to be charged with what amounted to treason.</p>
      <p>As he contemplated his past actions, his eyes lingered a little too long on the spot where the entrails of Major Bessiker had been spilled a few days before.</p>
      <p>Ilun followed his gaze and shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. The leatheris of his gloves squeaked as he clenched his hands more firmly behind his back. “I, uh, took the liberty of having it cleaned up.”</p>
      <p>Not entirely unexpected, unless you wanted to attract all manner of beasts with the smell. “Good. The body would’ve clashed with the décor anyway.”</p>
      <p>The officer blinked a few times in rapid succession before his brain caught up with the deadpan comment. “I suppose so.” A beat of silence. “Personally, I think a Colicoid taxidermy would look beautiful in the corner behind my desk," the tip of the officer's tongue darted out briefly, wetting his lips, “but-”</p>
      <p>“You should have said so before.” Roshinn replied genially to the Imperial’s rambling. “I killed plenty of Colicoids.”</p>
      <p>“I am afraid actually displaying a preserved beast in here may violate several regulations, but thank you for the offer.” For some unfathomable reason, Roshinn found himself watching the other man’s adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, transfixed by the minute movement.</p>
      <p>Clearly, he was in desperate need for a couple of hours of uninterrupted rest, preferably lulled to sleep by the soothing sounds of hyperspace travel.</p>
      <p>“Is there anything else you require of me, my lord?” There was something in the officer’s tone that put Roshinn on edge. “It would be a pleasure to serve in any capacity you see fit.”</p>
      <p>Ahem. “Any?” The young apprentice ground out, his throat tightening. This encounter veered into very unexpected territory. Not in an unwelcome way, though, he realised to his own surprise.</p>
      <p>Wordlessly, Ilun took a step closer and dropped to one knee, as if swearing allegiance. Too close for that to be a plausible explanation, though.</p>
      <p>Oh.</p>
      <p>Well, if that’s how he was going to play it... “I guess you’re in an excellent <em>position</em> to serve me.” He suppressed a shudder and pushed himself off the conference table. “Get creative, then.”</p>
      <p>The corners of Ilun’s mouth curled up into a gleeful smirk. “That’s what I like to hear.”</p>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Major Ilun struck me as exactly that kind of person, with the way he fussed over the SI via holo and a letter. His dialogue on Corellia fits the bill, too. It won't be the last we've seen of him in this story.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Short Circuit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING: Attempted rape (not directly involving the main character) and callous discussion of it. Appears in this chapter only.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I missed the part where this was my problem.” - Sith Inquisitor</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>09 ATC, Korriban </b>
</p><p>One of the sores on the soles of his feet had become infected. Roshinn was sure of it. Walking around without boots had become nearly unbearable, no amount of telling himself how the pain would allow him to commune more effectively with the Dark Side could gloss over the fact that at this rate he was going to end up crippled. And if footwear was out of the range of his budget, a cybernetic leg most definitely was. So he had done the only rational thing and stuck his head out, accepting an assignment from one of those haughty Pureblood overseers in hopes of being compensated for his efforts with enough credits to buy appropriate footwear. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself here, risking to become even more of a target than he already was, but hiding like a meek little coward was not a viable option either. The task itself – scanning random Sith for their genetic makeup or whatever - had turned out quite entertaining, although overall it seemed like an exercise in futility, since even the most scarlet of Purebloods had a certain percentage of human ancestry, otherwise they’d still be Massassi brutes prowling the jungles of Yavin 4.</p><p>Not his problem, though. At least no one could accuse him of having a <em> mixed </em> bloodline – or any ancestry of note, for that matter. He had no reason to doubt that he was Mirialan through and through, although he had never set foot on Mirial and, regrettably, didn’t have the first clue about his people’s culture – not like he was going to need such knowledge where he was now. There hadn’t been many opportunities to speak with of his kind in the environments he had grown up in. Most masters didn’t like their slaves bonding over commonalities, and most slaves didn’t like talking about something they’d likely never experience again. Like anything that would require freedom. Roshinn had been allowed to get a few facial tattoos in his teens, apparently to underline his “exotic” appearance, but as to what the patterns signified… it didn’t matter. He found they made him look less plain, even a little sophisticated, but all those Imperial would ever see was a skinny green savage with black diamond-shaped markings on his face.</p><p>Roshinn was rather pleased with himself. Two pretenders, the rest could keep their flamboyant gold jewellery, it seemed. Maybe it didn’t work like that, he had no intention of inquiring what would happen to them. One of the other acolytes he was on good terms with – the only one, to be honest – was a Red Sith of rather watered down lineage, so much she didn’t even have the typical facial ridges and bone spurs, didn’t wear the ostentatious piercings anyway. Then again, a sample size of one was hardly conclusive.</p><p>He had almost made it through the Lower Wilds on his way back to the Academy, when a pack of Tuk’ata attacked him. Perhaps they smelled the liquor of their deranged peer’s brain on his shirt. He groaned inwardly, remembering that he would have sleep naked once more so that he could wash the one set of clothes he had to his name. The nudity wasn’t an issue for him – there was little privacy in slave quarters - but nights on Korriban tended to get damn chilly. He didn’t want to borrow Balek’s blanket to supplement his own yet <em> again </em>. The other boy had enough body fat so as to not freeze his arse off, and had in fact offered the use of his blanket in the first place. However, there was no telling was lurked under the amiable, harmless and squishy exterior, so Roshinn was loathe to push him too far. Everyone had their tipping point and he didn’t want to get strangled in his well-deserved sleep over a karking piece of cloth.</p><p>The whimpering of the last feral beast died down, but the soothingly monotonous soundscape of the desert did not fall over Roshinn once more.</p><p>One of the unnaturally high-pitched voices in the distance was vaguely familiar, then again, most humanoids in distress tended to sound somewhat similar. He had not tortured enough people to be able to pick up on the slight differences, like how close to breaking – or dying – they were. Which made interrogating someone quite a chore, as you had to stop electrocuting them once in a while – usually just when things got entertaining – to check whether your victim was still capable of telling you anything. One day, and given enough opportunity to practise, he’d probably get there. How’s that for life goals. For the time being, the ambient noise boiled down to the terrified screams of two females interspersed with angry shouts and bouts of cruel laughter, all amplified by the acoustics of the tall monuments surrounding them.</p><p>He tried to sneak up on the four people wrestling on the ground and peered out from behind a large rock. The image wasn’t a pretty one. It wasn’t far from the carnage he’d wrought on the Tuk’ata earlier, out of sheer annoyance. Just lacked the smell of cooked flesh.</p><p>“Move along, asshole.” One of the men yelled into his direction. Looks like they had already spotted him on his approach. Granted, he hadn’t been be quiet culling those pesky hounds and the valley stretched pretty far.</p><p>Oh well.</p><p>He drew himself up to full height, which frankly wouldn’t impress anyone, especially not the two muscular brutes gleefully beating the shit out of their struggling victims, but he didn’t want to give the impression that he was cowering before them.</p><p>“The fuck do you want?”</p><p>Right. Try making light conversation over the tortured screeching of the unfortunate targets of those idiots’ ire. “What are you doing?”</p><p>At least they had the decency to pause their assault briefly. Wasn’t one of the victims the sentry who had asked him to retrieve the corpse of an Honour Guard’s son? It was hard to tell with all the blood streaming down her battered face.</p><p>“What’s it look like? Teaching this piece of scum a lesson for giving us fake coordinates. Bitch thinks she can mislead a <em>Sith</em> like that.”</p><p>Not really a Sith yet, but never mind. Don’t pick a fight, he told himself, you have no idea who these acolytes report to. He was already on Harkun’s bad side, he didn’t really need to add more overseers to the list.</p><p>“I didn’t-” The dark haired female grit out, before wriggling out of her assailant’s grasp and planting a vicious kick into his groin. Commendable effort, but unfortunately useless against Hutt-spawn who can afford armour. Entirely unfazed, the taller man picked her up and slammed her face-first into the dune, spitting on her back in disdain.</p><p>“What did she do?” Her name was Yashia, if memory served him right. They were far from Naga Sadow’s tomb and, besides, she wasn’t the kind of person to attempt to fool a Sith. Nothing about this made a lick of sense at all.</p><p>“Void, you’re a daft one. What’s with all the questions? Why do you care?”</p><p>In a remarkable display of perseverance, Yashia pushed herself up to all fours again and coughed out a handful of sand.</p><p>“One of the workers ran off, tried to get off-planet with important military secrets she’d stolen. Scum here wanted to take credit for bringing her when it was <em>my</em> task.”</p><p>Now he definitely knew that the fool was lying, or too stupid to get what her intentions had been. With that lecherous leer on his hideous face, the young human man certainly looked brainless enough to fail at something so basic as understanding directions.</p><p>Meanwhile, his Pureblood pal was beginning to rip off the clothes of the unmoving Zabrak girl on the ground. “Just ignore him, Havaron.” He growled over his shoulder, baring his pointed teeth at Roshinn. “Get lost, runt.”</p><p>Probably <em> should </em>'ve stayed in Yavin’s jungles, the entire lot of brutes.</p><p>“Yeah, don’t just stand there like a … <em>creep</em>. We’re not supposed to kill other acolytes for the heck of it, but you’re really starting to get on my nerves.”</p><p>That was just the thing. Roshinn was certain that assaulting your fellow Imperials wasn’t exactly highly approved of, either.</p><p>The Empire wasn’t a perverted anarchy where the most vicious could enforce their depraved whims on everyone else.</p><p>Or wait…</p><p>Regardless, the sentry was a regular citizen and serving in the military was the most highly respected occupation for non-Force-users. She hadn’t actually signed away her body to the military when she enlisted, had she? Slaves were considered property, little more than cattle, so nobody batted an eyelash when they were abused, but a soldier like Yashia? Weren’t they the ones upholding and enforcing the Empire’s decrees? If she could be treated like a punching bag for two angry Sith, any Imperial had to spend their life cowering in fear.</p><p>Obviously, he could just ignore the proceedings, they hadn’t even expressed more than the usual amount of hostility to his presence. Heck, he <em> enjoyed </em> inflicting pain, too, just not … not in such a manner? Actually, there was no discernible difference as far as he could tell. A body was a body, person-shaped flesh and bone that tended to fail and crumble and decay, it didn’t really matter which precise part was violated.</p><p>There had to be something different about the situation before him, though, otherwise witnessing this would not feel as wrong as it did.</p><p>“Still here? What, you want in on the fun?” The larger human chuckled darkly. “Huh, why not? Serves her right, getting fucked by a filthy alien. Gotta wait for your turn though.”</p><p>He clenched his fists at the insult, willing his voice to stay even. “Nah, not my thing.”</p><p>“Please-” Yashia looked right up at him, one eye swollen shut, the other lingering on his bewildered face pleadingly.</p><p>Bloody void. All the stomach-turning things he had seen and <em> done and </em> <em> likely </em> <em> would do, </em> and he couldn’t deal with <em> this</em>. He’d been fuming with the impotent rage of the powerless whenever someone he’d worked side by side with had been taken away for punishment, or when masters had whipped and starved him for stepping out of line. But now that he had the power to do something about similar abuse, he felt frozen on the spot, weak once more.</p><p>How was that for pathetic?</p><p>“Look at that. Thinks you’d help her.” Havaron wheezed a harsh laugh. “She’ll be begging for death once I’m through with her. Fucking weakling deserves it.”</p><p>Did anyone, though?</p><p>Well, he could contemplate exactly why this situation ticked him off so much later, in the non-existent privacy of his dorm room. For now-</p><p>“I suppose it could be a matter of opinion.”</p><p>The larger man’s mouth dropped open. “What did you say?”</p><p>He would never be made feel weak again. “I said, it’s scum like you who deserve to die.”</p><p>Lightning sparked in Roshinn’s palms.</p><p> </p><p>#~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~#</p><p> </p><p>His opponent knelt on his shins, effectively pinning him down, and raised his warblade above his head. Roshinn instinctively knew that his range of motion was too limited to avoid a direct hit. He threw out his hands, focussing on pushing the attack away, attempting to create a field of lightning that might protect him, but the weapon swung down towards him without so much as slowing down.</p><p>
  <em> -Crack- </em>
</p><p>The Pureblood stilled, his yellow eyes widening comically, and collapsed onto him, knocking the breath out of Roshinn. With all the adrenalin coursing through him, he was hyper-aware of how ridiculous he must look writhing out underneath the heavy body, the loose sand thwarting his efforts again and again. When he finally made it, Yashia still knelt on the ground, looking shell-shocked and holding her blaster rifle with a white-knuckled grip.</p><p>He gave her a vaguely appreciative nod, but there was no reaction from her whatsoever.</p><p>Ignoring the sting of the lightsabre burn he’d sustained during the fight because of-karking-course he was too slow to parry properly with his own weapon, he crouched down beside the Zabrak and examined her extensive wounds. Broken wrist and finger bones, likely from defending herself. Dislocated arm, not a big deal. However, her pelvis seemed to be completely crushed, he had no idea how she was not cold and dead yet from that injury alone. The resilient ones always suffered the worst. Light purple discolouration around the base of her horns. <em> Shit. </em> He’d seen <em> that </em> before, in an older slave who’d fallen off an unsecured walkway from exhaustion. Cause of death – brain swelling, which apparently presented this way in Zabraks.</p><p>“Shh, you’re going to be fine.” He reassured her quietly, although the words felt hollow even to himself. “I’ll heal you.” Roshinn placed his hands on her solar plexus, at an equal distance from her two hearts and concentrated. The girl twitched for a brief moment before going completely slack, head lolling limply to one side. With a dejected sigh, he turned towards the sentry.</p><p>“No. Nonono-” Yashia scrambled backwards in terror until her back was up against a rock. “Stay away from me!”</p><p>“I’m shocked by the extent of your gratitude.” Roshinn hissed, but held up his hands placatingly, keeping his distance so as not to spook the soldier further.</p><p>“Why- Why did you kill her?”</p><p>“She was a goner anyway. Better to spare her further suffering.” He replied detachedly.</p><p>She didn’t seem convinced. “You didn’t have to do this. We could’ve taken her to a med droid!”</p><p>“Seriously? Not even a kolto tank could’ve fixed this amount of damage to her organs and bones. Who’d going to operate on and provide cybernetics for someone like her? And even if she had survived, what would’ve awaited her? Punishment for disobedient slaves is usually death anyway.”</p><p>Yashia buried her face in her hands. Roshinn went over to her and extended a hand to help her up. “Calm down, I am not going to hurt you.”</p><p>Instead of taking the proffered help, she curled up on herself even more. “Thank you for helping me...but...” she began sobbing. “This is bad. Really bad.”</p><p>“They’re very much dead – you survived. <em>They</em> can’t harm you anymore – but you’ll hurt <em>yourself</em> if you choose to dwell on what happened.”</p><p>“As simple as that? You have no idea what it’s like-”</p><p>“Don't I, though? Care to see the scars on my back?” Roshinn countered testily. As if he didn’t understand suffering and trauma. “Bastards like that only have power over you if you let this...fester. Use it to fuel your anger and draw strength from it. The last bit is what they tell us at the Academy, anyway. I don’t see why it wouldn’t work for a Force-null, though.”</p><p>“You...you don’t understand, do you? This…” she gestured towards herself and the Zabrak’s corpse. “this aside - killing a Sith is expressly forbidden. Even acolytes are granted immunity unless they commit treason against the Empire or disobey their masters. It doesn’t matter if my superiors believe me, these two were authorised to punish me for a perceived slight-”</p><p>“They had <em>no</em> right." He stated firmly. "Besides, what would they punish you for?”</p><p>“Acolytes Yuksôt and Havaron demanded I help them track the whereabouts of an escaped slave who supposedly passed by my post. I told them what I knew – that I’d seen the work unit she’d had been assigned to heading towards the Tomb of Marka Ragnos. When I made my way towards the barracks later, I spotted an acolyte fitting her description near the shuttle landing site.” Yashia explained. “I apprehended her and she told me she and others had been recruited by another slave to hide important data. I suspected the involvement of enemy intelligence and because I didn’t want her whole unit to be executed just on the basis of a vague confession, I asked her to take me where the data supposedly was.”</p><p>“And that’s where you ran into these two.”</p><p>Yashia gave a faint nod before averting her eyes again. “You know, I talk a lot to the acolytes sent to Sadow’s tomb. Most ignore me, some feel like they need to insult me, others, like you, actually stop to have a conversation. Never has anyone attacked me over a misunderstanding.”</p><p>“Is this a normal method of punishment?”</p><p>“I don’t understand what you’re asking.”</p><p>Funny, he didn’t know either. “I get why there a constant struggle to assert one’s superiority among Sith, leading to bloodshed. That’s expected behaviour and everyone’s aware of the rules of the game. What I can’t wrap my head around is why they chose to assault you like <em> this </em> instead of, I don’t know, torturing you conventionally.”</p><p>“To humiliate us?” She replied immediately, as if it was obvious.</p><p>“Why would this be worse than, say, having an arm chopped off?</p><p>The sentry gave him a strange look. “Because it twists something that should be pleasurable? Because it takes away autonomy over one’s own body?”</p><p>He still didn’t understand. Wasn't it always the very point to corrupt your target's mind by twisting their hopes and desires? As for the second argument, were involuntary sexual acts fundamentally different from forced work that would slowly – or quickly, depending on the environment – kill you? What autonomy did a slave have over their body?</p><p>Apparently, Yashia had noticed his confusion. “You could say, torture is supposed to break your will by destroying your body. Rape is supposed to break your <em> soul </em>.”</p><p>His soul didn’t feel particularly whole and healthy, either, but perhaps it was because he could recognise this that he instinctively shied away from even considering to hurt someone in an intimate fashion. Besides, he had a myriad of refined and effective tools on his hand, there was no need to rely on such a crude one.</p><p>“Only the weak break.” Roshinn asserted, more to himself than the soldier beside him.</p><p>“Most are weak, then.” Yashia gave a broken smile. “I won’t forget that you helped me, but I don’t think we’ll ever meet again.”</p><p>Considering the concerns she’d voiced earlier, the implications were clear. “I killed them. As simple as that. You were never here.”</p><p>“I couldn’t ask you to take the blame. Besides, they can tell from the corpses what happened and others saw me head out here, too. There’ll definitely be an investigation, especially if Yuksôt’s family learns about the fact that their Pureblood son was killed by an alien slave.” Roshinn’s face darkened. “Sorry...I couldn’t help but notice the collar scar.”</p><p>It wasn’t prudent to take the fall for her, true. There were other, more subtle options, however. “You know… There's someone who’d like to feast on these corpses.”</p><p>“S-someone?”</p><p>“Yeah, weird creature going by the name of Seh-Run. Lives in Naga Sadow’s tomb. I’m sure he’ll appreciate fresh meat. Can you help me find a speeder so we can take them to your old post?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Future chapters will be more cheerful, but I felt the need to highlight an aspect that often gets overlooked about the absolute power Sith have over non-Force-Sensitives.</p><p>Making someone literally sing during a torture session is hilarious and all that, but if inflicting pain and killing is ok, too, where to draw the line? Why draw one at all, especially if you're on a "Murder and Mayhem" path?</p><p>Technically, this chapter features only a rather superficial, platonic relationship, but Roshinn's reaction to the proceedings shows a facet of his approach to the physical side.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Static</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"There are more ways to be Sith than there are to be Jedi. Some of us are quite sane and capable of seeing that this war benefits no one."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>12 ATC, Hyperspace</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t understand how anyone could consider something so wonderful as wrong.” Ashara sighed contentedly, splayed lazily on her master’s bed, head propped up on a small cylindrical cushion.</p><p>“Took you long enough to realise that, dear.” Roshinn chuckled, while continuing to mouth sensually at the tip of her montrals. “Doesn’t it make you wonder what other things the Jedi have kept from you – and why?”</p><p>“Are there not aspects of the Dark Side – or of your own operations – that you’re not disclosing to me?” His apprentice shot back, as usual, subtle criticism disguised as naive questioning.</p><p>“Some techniques you might not be ready for yet. Besides, why should I tell you everything, when you insist on being a Jedi still?”</p><p>“Because a Jedi is what I am, what I’ll ever be. I thought you accepted that.”</p><p>“I accept your … <em>belief</em>, but I don’t encourage the mental compartmentalisation that allows you to keep up such delusions – for your sake. How can you cling to the tenets of the Jedi Order, after all the enemies you’ve slain in anger-”</p><p>“-taking responsibility so that they will not harm anyone.”</p><p>“... or the passionate moments we’ve shared?” He continued, unfazed by her half-hearted struggle to deny the truth.</p><p>Ashara looked away, colour rising in her cheeks. “Are you <em> really </em> turning this into a lecture?”</p><p>Roshinn dragged his nails over the insides of her thighs, holding her down with the aid of the Force when she started to squirm away from his touch. “I am your master – all I do is supposed to impart knowledge to you. Of course, you are free to choose what you do with it. I remember you wished to rid the galaxy of <em> evil </em>”, he sneered, “by killing all Sith you come across. Is that still your goal, after everything you’ve experienced at my side?”</p><p>A flash of mischief glinted in her half-lidded eyes. “Isn’t it my job as your apprentice to eventually supplant you?”</p><p>“You’re such a quick learner. At least when it comes to putting up a facade. It serves you well in society. Too bad you don’t mean to kill me, do you?”</p><p>She began to massage his neck, small circling motions. Soothing, somehow. “I’d rather work with you. Help you make the Empire a better place. To make our contribution to eventual peace.”</p><p>“Peace will only come through power.” He grabbed her wrist, bringing it to his mouth and trailing his tongue down along the artery pulsating beneath the skin. “The Jedi aren’t pacifists, so they at least understand that part. What they fail to grasp how far you would need to go to ensure it. Lasting peace requires absolute power. Anything below that is just a temporary armistice breeding more opposition. At its core, the way of the Sith is not a philosophy to give the most insane psychopaths a sanctioned way to enact their random sadistic whims, but about finding the one capable of bearing the burden of ultimate leadership.” He twisted her nipples none too gently, eliciting a gasp from the Togruta. “One who will not succumb to the luring whisper of the Dark Side, making empty promise of superiority while exacting a disproportional price. Only when one overcomes the Force itself, bends it to one’s will, shall the last shackles be removed. Those of a selfish greed so hubristic it brings nothing but ruin to even the strongest.”</p><p>“And you think you are that person? That you won't become a monster?”</p><p>“We shall find out, won’t we?” He bared his teeth in a sly grin.</p><p>Ashara pulled away her hand to caress his shoulder, feathery touches slowly, deliberately ghosting along his collarbone, until her fingers abruptly stopped their course. Her brows furrowed in worry. “You should get those treated, they look inflamed.”</p><p>Roshinn looked up from his ministrations to study her face. “Are you … ashamed you bit me in the throes of ecstasy earlier?”</p><p>“Well, to lose control like this … It’s dangerous.”</p><p>“Dangerous? I thought your fangs aren’t venomous.”</p><p>Ashara rolled her eyes. “They really aren’t, that’s just a myth.”</p><p>“A rather convenient one – makes Togrutans unpopular as fodder for entertainment establishments. Ever wondered why there’re practically no male Twi’lek pleasure slaves?”</p><p>“Um, no?” Again a darker hue crept on her cheeks.</p><p>“Similar reason—sharp teeth are impractical. And in their case, it’s not just a few canines.”</p><p>She gave a thoughtful hum. “That’s messed up to think about, but I haven’t seen any Mirialan females in that line of business, either.”</p><p>“A less hilarious example. It’s because they usually kill themselves at the first chance.”</p><p>His apprentice sat up abruptly, giving him an aghast look, her back rigid.</p><p>“According to my research, Mirialans believe that an individual's actions directly contribute to their collective destiny. The body reflects upon their tribe, which in turn reflects on their people. Thus, violation of the body brings shame to everyone,” he huffed dismissively and crawled up to her so their faces were almost touching. “That’s the gist of what I know about their culture, at any rate.”</p><p>“<em>Their</em>?” She inquired confusedly.</p><p>“Considering you’ve conversed with more Chiss that I have met Mirialans in my entire conscious life, I can hardly identify with their culture, can I?” He pointed to an elongated diamond pattern on his forehead. “My mother’s tribe, I am told. Don’t remember her at all, so isn’t it kriffing great she at least left me some markings honouring my lineage or something? Lot of good that does me.”</p><p>“They would allow you to connect to your heritage, if you so chose.”</p><p>“Well, that’s the point - I don’t.” Roshinn nearly winced at the petulance in his own voice. “Such sentimentality is a weakness.”</p><p>His apprentice nodded in solemn understanding. Good girl. “And the other tattoos?”</p><p>“They’re solely personal. Probably won’t mean anything to others. Some are just for vanity purposes.”</p><p>“What do they signify in your mind?” She glanced down to his stomach, to a narrow pattern leading from his navel to his pelvis.</p><p>“This particular one? Virility.” Roshinn deadpanned.</p><p>Ashara giggled lightly, making it apparent how young she still was. Both of them, actually, with his apprentice being the older one, if only by a few months. Then again, considering his entourage consisting of living relics, age was but a number.</p><p>“It’s kind of sad, to feel no kinship with your people.”</p><p>“You know what’s ironic? Regardless of how I feel, I have to suffer the repercussions of not being baseline human nevertheless, so even though I am not like them, I am looked down upon by merit of my appearance. Well, they’re all wrong. My destiny is mine to forge. Mine alone.” He took her hand into his and smiled. “Actually, markings along the collarbone are supposedly for remembrance. Perhaps I’ll let these scar as a memento of my dearest apprentice.”</p><p>The momentary delight in her expression gave way to concern again. “Still, it’s wrong to hurt you.”</p><p>“Oh, but I like it when you hurt me.” He grinned unabashedly.</p><p>“That sounds a little … worrying?” Her unapologetic, although naive, honesty was one of her best qualities, setting her apart from those actually considering themselves Sith. It was strange and nice to have someone believing in you, especially if they didn’t agree with you most of the time. Unlike most of his - well, <em>followers</em>, wasn’t that the correct term? - she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind to him, but he still wasn’t quite sure if it was only because she was actually underestimating him and what he would do to her if she actively worked against him. Luckily, if she no longer had any intentions of being loyal, you would know.</p><p>“In terms of my mental health?” (Oh dear, have I news for you, apprentice.)</p><p>“Well, not going to step into that trap. You’ll just choke me again.” She replied half-jokingly, before her tone turned more contemplative. “Why does it feel that way for you? Pleasure should be the furthest thing from pain.”</p><p>“It’s actually rather similar. At it’s most basic level…” He trailed off, his expression morphing into a feral leer as he slowly slid down her body until his face was level with her folds. “Allow me to demonstrate.”</p><p>-----</p><p>After he had wrung another climax out of her, Ashara’s screams took on a more desperate quality, breathlessly begging him to stop as she thrashed against the Force restraints.</p><p>Looking up from between her legs, the smirk on his lips glistening with her slick was a self-satisfied one. “I believe you get it now? Pleasure taken too far inevitably turns into agony. Conversely, a well-measured dose of pain enhances all sensations – it heightens pleasure to something beyond the physical. An ethereal rush. And when you come back down from that high afterwards, you’re left with a stark reminder of your own vulnerability, however one you got in a protected setting. Blood shed during moments of consensual passion has a rather different quality to that shed in battle. It's a thing of beauty, not destruction. That's something I can appreciate.”</p><p>“But… isn’t wanting to feel <em>protected</em> somehow ultimately equal to craving peacefulness?” Her brows furrowed in that infuriatingly dogmatically short-sighted way he absolutely hated.</p><p>“Cast aside the limited views the Order has instilled in you. You’re analysing when you should be <em>feeling. </em>Talking when you should be listening to your own body.<em>”</em></p><p>“I- I don’t know how to feel anymore. Apparently all I am feeling is wrong, always was-”</p><p>He took her face in his hands. “Confusion is the first step. A necessary one. Push beyond that, and you will be able to put the indoctrination behind you that is enslaving you to a weak ideology.”</p><p>“The Jedi-”</p><p>(Would she never understand?) “It’s the <em>Jedi</em> who broke you, made you conform to their culture of collective mediocrity and meekness, extinguished your passion. I simply wish to rekindle the beautiful spark that makes you an individual.”</p><p>She buried her face in his shoulder, allowing him to savour the stinging sensation her tears created when they trickled over the half-healed bite marks. “I am scared.” If she knew, she’d pull away, apologise.</p><p>“Of what could you possibly be afraid when I am right here?” Upon further reflection, that sounded more affectionate than he had intended.</p><p>She hesitated, weaving her calloused fingers into his hair. "Of losing you. I thought the Jedi were my family, but one misstep and they see me as their enemy. I am happy here, don’t get me wrong, but I never wanted this, either." Her grip tightened enough to hurt, betraying her emotions. "What I want never matters.”</p><p>(The impertinence.) As if she knew what being bereft of choice truly felt like. “What do you want?”</p><p>“To protect you. To wake up beside you.” Her voice began to tremble as she added, almost inaudibly. “I love you.”</p><p>Now <em>that</em> made matters unnecessarily complicated. “You are important to me, Ashara. I won’t ever discard you, as long as you’re loyal to me.” He of all people should have known.</p><p>This time, she did pick up on the wording. “But you don’t want to be in a relationship with me?” (Why would you want me to?)</p><p>“I respect your individuality and I enjoy your company, especially in such an intimate setting. There’s a lot about the galaxy, about our potential, that I would like to explore with you by my side. Surely you realise how unusual that is, what a great risk I am taking in allowing you this close to me. Is this not enough for you?”</p><p>“I guess...I just want to know I have your commitment.”</p><p>It should be simple. “I am Sith. I draw strength from <em> passion.</em> You ultimately benefit from the power I amass – why would you want to limit that?”</p><p>“Because it hurts to see you with others? Is this concept so foreign to you?”</p><p>“How many <em>others</em> have I been with recently?” He snorted derisively. “And why would it matter as long as we can still share <em>this</em>? Others have no influence on what happens between <em>us</em>. Besides, is jealousy becoming of a "<em>Jedi</em>"? Why don’t you let it fuel your fury, allowing it to empower you? Have I taught you so little?” When she opened her mouth to protest, he continued. “At long last, it’s for your own good. Consider the possibility that I am a killed by a rival. As my apprentice, you could live on if you’re found worthy. As my <em>wife</em>, if we're thinking that far – not a chance. They’d punish you for supporting me, in more terrible ways than you can envision.” He most definitely did not feel protective of her. “I can, and...well. Not going there. Besides, I won’t get killed.”</p><p>The ghosts were laughing at him.</p><p>Well, they constantly did that, but right now, they had actual reason to.</p><p>(So much for honest introspection.)</p><p>“But then you are in agreement with the Order – attachment is dangerous.”</p><p>“Phrased like this … I suppose I am.”</p><p>Ashara blinked in surprise. “And you’re fine with acknowledging this?”</p><p>“Why should it bother me? I am not afraid to think - even if I end up arriving at the same conclusion my enemy has drawn. The Jedi can’t possibly be wrong about every single thing. Historically, the Sith ideology originated from a 'heretical' offshoot of the Jedi Order. They’re not necessarily stupid, I won’t underestimate them like that, they’ve simply steadfastly refused to evolve from their dogmatic views and embrace the Dark Side for what it is – an undeniable facet of the Force, and an immensely powerful one at that.”</p><p>“A perilous one.”</p><p>“True. For the weak. The Sith tend to weed those out – ideally, of course.”</p><p>“Isn’t that unfair? Must those who can’t handle as much power as others die?”</p><p>“If they compete with their betters, I see no alternative. On the other hand, it's wasteful and pointless-”</p><p>His apprentice seized the opportunity to leverage her idea. “Exactly, they could use the Force for healing, or agriculture… supporting society in a myriad of ways.”</p><p>“A well-intentioned approach, but could you imagine lesser Sith serving alongside the common soldiers, essentially sacrificing themselves in the muck of battle, or spend their lives as farmers?”</p><p>“The Sith are already dying at the behest of their masters.”</p><p>“Not just the Sith. Every single Imperial citizen is. We’re supposed to be happy if we end up as collateral, to further the glory of the Empire.” Seeing Ashara’s crestfallen expression, he added, “and that’s why I need to transcend that idiotic ideology. I will <em>make</em> them understand.”</p><p>“By slaughtering everyone who disagrees with you?”</p><p>“If that’s is what it takes. Besides, that’s the most entertaining way. Every corpse in my path will allow me to rise further above those fools. Tell me they don't deserve to suffer.”</p><p>“That’s cruel.”</p><p>“Cruel is thinking you’re better than others because of your blood or ancestry. Cruel is torturing your slaves for speaking. Sentencing people to be raped on a daily basis so you can make money off of their suffering.” He spat acidly, veins around his eyes darkening. “I am a realist. Until I can overcome the restrictions of the Force itself, I need the Dark Side and the power it brings me, so I’ll play along. On my terms.”</p><p>“So you’re saying the Dark Side is inherently evil?”</p><p>“Of course that’s the lesson you choose to take away from that.” Roshinn groaned in annoyance. “Evil is relative. Ultimately, it's selfish, yes. Of course that has consequences.” He trailed his fingertips over the barely healed burn on the Togruta’s hip, her shudder turning into a pained wince when he pressed down harder. “I was only able to heal you on Quesh because I was livid at those thugs for managing to injure <em>my</em> apprentice and because I happen to enjoy the pain the act of healing itself causes me in turn because it's such a draining technique for someone commanding the Dark Side. Does that detract from the fact that you recovered from your wounds thanks to my support?" He gave a sheepish shrug. "I imagine a similar feat would come rather naturally to Jedi, when they’re attuned to caring for others with every fibre of their being.”</p><p>“And you accept these limitations so easily?” Ashara asked, her innocent face failing to hide the smugness at having caught him in an apparent contradiction. His apprentice had an excellent grasp of his character.</p><p>(Disturbing, that.)</p><p>“No.”</p><p>The Force was life and death, intertwined.</p><p>He had little respect for either.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Overload</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> "I want to wear robes of solid gold!" </em>
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  <strong> 13 ATC, Nar Shaddaa</strong>
</p><p>Retrieving the Star of Kala’unn should have been the end point of their little cooperation – a breath of fresh air among the more distasteful missions she usually accompanied at the behest of the young Sith who’d picked her up on Korriban. But of course she could not say no to the old gang this time either. Or pass up on an opportunity to stick it to those slavers, the same ones who had trafficked her sister into the establishment she’d worked at. If it hadn’t been for her Sith friend’s mind-boggling generosity… Well, Tivva was forging her own path now and that was all that mattered. Getting ‘gifted’ to a Sith apprentice – now a proper Lord, <em> hooray </em>, since she’d climbed up the food chain a while ago, but on the whole she was still the same brutally efficient killer who liked ridiculous strong caf and who actually got Vette’s sense of humour – had the unexpected effect of turning her life very much for the better instead of making it living hell.</p><p>Funny, that.</p><p>Come to think of it, the carnage their little ragtag group consisting of die-hard Imperials (and herself) casually left in their wake wherever they went <em> was </em>the closest thing to the deepest layers of Corellian hell.</p><p>Just for other people. Phew, huh?</p><p>The maimed survivors, for example, not to mention those who last moments consisted of sheer agony on the business end of a lightsabre or the glorious feeling of their neck snapping, bit by itty little bit.</p><p>Or grieving relatives. (The vengeful ones were literally<em> the worst, </em>though.)</p><p>Or even the hapless officers getting demoted to janitorial duty (a euphemism for ‘proving their worth by leading suicide missions’, no one could convince her otherwise) for major screw-ups they had no chance of preventing in the first place because a Sith had a bad morning and randomly decided to muck up their campaign for good. Not that she cared particularly much about those, but the avalanche of chain reactions Sith involvement unleashed on a typical day was absolutely astonishing. Like watching a speeder crash unfold in slow motion.</p><p>As glad as Vette was not to be on the receiving end of the continuous violence, it was oh-so-easy to gloss over the fact that she was complicit in killing a lot of people – and mostly not the ones who deserved such a fate, in her opinion. Not that she got much of a say. It was her choice to stay, certainly, and Zayathris never forced her to take part actively in the more stomach-churning endeavours – usually, she just needed to slice the doors open or provide a distraction so the warrior could chop her enemies to cauterized chunks with predatory grace, unimpeded by turrets and war droids. On occasion, the Sith might even have stayed her hand on behalf of her companion, although Vette had no illusions about the minuscule amount of influence she actually wielded over how kriffing bloody their day-to-day operations got.</p><p>She just couldn’t wrap her head around the point of it all. Like, everyone vied for power all the time, yet no one was powerful enough to be truly <em> safe </em>. A whole society collectively balancing on the edge of a vibroblade, heads bowed demurely while readying a poisoned knife behind their backs. Most of the time, Sith didn’t even need an apparent reason to go on murder sprees that not even other Imperials were exempt from. There were legal clauses about the appropriateness of killing other people’s servants (mostly okay, if not likely to endear you to the Sith in charge, inevitably triggering a downward spiral of violence) and the reparations associated with it (usually none). Quinn had made her read the whole darn legislation, all 400-ish pages of it, before even considering signing off on the paperwork required for her citizenship application.</p><p>However, one thing stood out: As irrational as Sith often acted, they were not completely stupid about the retaliation part, as least not officially. If blood revenge was officially a thing - similarly to such customs of the Kaleesh or Duros - in the Empire, its expanse would have been nipped in the bud, the whole endeavour ending with a big bunch of corpses littering Dromund Kaas. (Not for long, though. The native yozusks and gundarks would have cleared up the jungles within days, leaving no one the wiser.)</p><p>In fact, with how deeply ingrained the power worship was in Imperial culture, these rather different classes of people truly deserved one another – the military was gleefully aiding the Siths’ quest for dominance, consequences be damned, partaking in the bloodshed as a way of life as if it was the only valid purpose.</p><p>Case in point, the two officers on their crew. Both major assholes ruthlessly attempting to advance their careers, albeit with varying degrees of bootlicking (probably not just boots - eww, never mind.) And quite often at each other’s throat because the methods they employed to do so were at odds. Well, Pierce was okay-ish most of the time, at least he wasn’t a rabid xenophobe with a stick shoved up his backside and seemed content to ignore Vette - not that they had much reason to interact in first place. When he wasn’t prepping for a mission or testing the limits of the prissy Captain’s patience, the Lieutenant was usually preoccupied with staring intently at his Sith superior.</p><p>One encryption layer down. That hadn’t been so difficult, had it? Two to go until she could inject a script into the background maintenance routine to bypass the local security measures and hopefully get this damned door open. Just a couple more minutes...</p><p>
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</p><p>In the narrow hallway behind her, a dark figure appeared and stopped dead in their tracks upon noticing her. The crimson emergency lighting reflected off the metallic surface of their mask, giving them an eery glow. The ugly contraption covered the whole face, and what it could not enclose was hidden beneath a cowl, depersonalising the wearer completely.</p><p>There was no lightsabre visible beneath the layers of the complicated attire, but the frankly terrifying presence was more than enough to identify them as Sith. They radiated the coldness of a knife pressed to your jugular. The oppressing cloyingness of a drying smear of blood on your cheek. A ghostly tendril of fear worming its way into your chest, pulsating with a sickly energy, corroding the flesh where it touched.</p><p>The figure tilted their head, looking her up and down with deliberate slowness. “You’re not with them.” The vocoder distorted the half-questioning, half-menacing words, twisting them into a low growl that sounded vaguely masculine.</p><p>And not particularly kind.</p><p>“Congratulations, you’re a smart one.” Adrenaline surging, Vette defaulted to wit. It was probably going to get her choked or electrocuted, depending on personal preference, but it was the only way of dealing with paralysing fear that worked for her.</p><p>The Sith stiffened briefly and Vette imagined him raising his eyebrows disapprovingly under the metal mask.</p><p>“Hm, so what’s with that attitude, darling?” He purred as he stepped closer, thankfully slipping past her to examine the door. “What are you doing on Black Sun territory, then, apart from harbouring a blatantly obvious death wish?”</p><p>She wondered whether Baras would approve of the ridiculously elaborate get-up. Seemed in line with his fashion sense, especially what with the permanent menacing expression of the mask. Then again, the outfit would’ve looked much more stylish and impressive if it hadn’t been singed and torn all over, as if the wearer had tried to wrestle a baby rancor. It would certainly profit even more from not being literally soaked with so much blood it stuck to the Sith’s slight frame, revealing the sharp edges of his hips and ribcage. Granted, physically he was the polar opposite of Darth Fatso. He had no obvious injuries, judging from his posture he appeared exhausted and tense, charged up with the peculiar post-kill energy Vette got to witness on a regular basis.</p><p>It was a gamble, but since he didn’t seem to be in league with the cartel… The truth, then. “Stole some data on their operations. I was on my way out, anyway. Got no intention to stand in your path.”</p><p>“Yet here you are.” Spoken with a thoughtful, almost tender drawl, like that was not ominous at all.</p><p>Suddenly, there was a lit sabre in his hand, illuminating the cramped space they found themselves in.</p><p>“Actually, the blast door is what’s stopping your progress, not me.”</p><p>His huffed response dissolved into a burst of static. Vette was not in the business of giving strange Sith advice, but maybe he should prioritise quality tech gear over fancy, if dilapidated, clothes. Style over substance seemed to be a common theme with those folks, though.</p><p>“Well, continue with what you were doing.” He waved at her dismissively, as if she was a particularly annoying insect. “I can think of better ways to spend my evening than to be stuck in here with you.”</p><p>How about he put that sabre to good use? “Maybe you could cut through the door if you’re in such a hurry-”</p><p>“Duranite-fibre mesh. Mostly resistant to lightsabres, so it would take hours to cut a serviceable opening into it.” He stepped back, thumbing off his sabre and slipping it into the fold of his robe. “Doubly depressurised passage?”</p><p>“Yeah. Off-grid, though.”</p><p>He leaned against the wall behind her, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “No forcing it open, either, then.” He gave an almost imperceptible wince as he adjusted his position. So he might be hurt after all, so although Vette stood no chance of being able to go up against him, his condition might still buy her the time she needed to power up her stealth generator later on. For now...</p><p>“I can wipe the routing table clean, it would be faster to work on a blank slate. Would eventually alarm them to our position, though.”</p><p>The Sith glanced down the hallway. “I doubt there’s anyone coming after us any time soon. My business with the Black Sun concluded rather, ah, impressively.”</p><p>Vette blanched, her hands stilling. Was he working with them after all?</p><p>“Not <em>that</em> kind of business.” He chuckled at her reaction. “What’s your name?”</p><p>“Far be it from me to keep information from you, <em>my lord, </em>but why?”</p><p>“I don’t want to call you <em>Twi’lek,” </em>The vocoder had to be buggy, because that came out with a softness that seemed quite out of character <em>- “</em>but<em> pathetic worm </em>or<em> waste of oxygen</em> are available alternatives, if you prefer those.”</p><p>Or not.</p><p>She sighed. “No need for dramatics. I’m Vette.”</p><p>“Who names their kid ‘Vette’?” The Sith snorted derisively in response. So much for civility.</p><p>“No one. That’s like, the point, you know?”</p><p>He stayed silent at that, but the slight shift in his posture told Vette that he was not yet done picking her apart.</p><p>For the time being, however, the Sith let her work, graciously refraining from further caustic commentary.</p><p>
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</p><p>She hit yet another dead end, a heavily encrypted honey-pot directory filled with garbage data. The cartel had spared no expense in hiring excellent security experts, that much was clear. A nagging thought throbbed in the back of her mind that she just had to voice. “How do I know you’re not going to kill me as soon as we’re out of here?”</p><p>“Now, why would I do that, Vette?” His saccharine tone was proof enough that her concerns were not entirely unfounded. “That would be quite ungrateful.”</p><p>“’Cause you’re Sith?”</p><p>“And we’re <em>all the same</em>?” They definitely shared the ruthlessly selfish streak, and although there were exceptional individuals you could get along with under the right circumstances, none of them could be expected to care about a random stranger.</p><p>“I’ve met enough of you to realise what kind of situation I am in.”</p><p>“Oh?” His interest was perked. “Do tell me about your <em>extensive</em> <em>experience</em>.”</p><p>“I work for one. I don’t think you want to cross her.” Vette realised this could go either way, but it was imperative to give him a reason to think twice about killing her. Probably wasn’t a good reason, though.</p><p>"Oh, Vette, dear." He tsk-ed disdainfully. “Going to threats already? And to think we had such a pleasant conversation.”</p><p>“Not a threat, just an honest warning. My Sith’s gonna tear you limb from limb if you so much as scratch my lekku.”</p><p>“You’re a hilarious one.” He let out a bark of incredulous laughter. “<em>Your Sith?</em> Speaking you like you own them – such arrogance is either going to get you quite far or offed real quick. But let me tell you something: <em>No one owns a Sith</em>.”</p><p>“Apart from their masters and the masters of their masters and so on?” Good job, criticising the power structure of their Order, now he is going to kill you for sure.</p><p>Contrary to her expectations, the man appeared to humour her. “An astonishing amount of insight for a slave.”</p><p>Vette bristled at the term. “I am <em> not </em> a slave.”</p><p>“Ah, indeed. I should not have jumped to conclusions.” An apology, or what sort of passed for it, from a Sith? That was a new one.</p><p>“Yeah, people see a Twi’lek and think ‘slave’. You wouldn’t be the first to-”</p><p>“Something tells me <em>schuttas</em> like that can expect to make acquaintance with the business end of your blaster.”</p><p>Had he just used Ryl slang to mock her? The slur had long made it’s way into Basic, but any self-respecting Imperial would not be caught speaking the language of a people they hardly considered sapient, or, in fact, deserving of any essential rights.</p><p>“So, your <em>pet Sith</em>, is she nearby?” Finger right on the wound.</p><p>“Close enough. What, you want a chat?” She could not help it. The nervous twitching of her lekku would easily give her away, at least to other Twi’lek. Good thing he wasn’t -</p><p>“That’s a no, then. I thought a scoundrel like you would be more adept at lying.” An invisible touch trailed circles around the base of her head-tails.</p><p>Oh, stars. The fun little side-mission she’d told no one about had definitely taken a dangerous, potentially fatal turn.</p><p>Nearly there, just need to rewire the maintenance access circuit… “Do you have access to the local environment controls?” The Sith’s voice suddenly sounded somewhat strained, as if he’d run a few laps around the Lower Promenades. Vette shook her head in reply, struggling to keep her focus on the panel. “Because it’s part of the mainframe, it’s protected by the central firewall. Slicing that would have taken much longer than simply getting the doors open.” Her eyes began to burn.</p><p>“Ah. Unfortunate, that.” He pushed himself off the wall, posture alert, and leaned over her shoulder, the coarse fabric of his robe brushing against her left lek. Close enough to make her nauseous at the smell of burnt armour and flesh. And ozone, reminding her of the thunderstorms on Dromund Kaas, a place she'd never imagined longing to be. But literally anywhere would be better than in that guy's presence. “You would to well to finish your stuff. <em>Right now</em>.”</p><p>“Getting impatient?” Vette rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Not me. Our common adversaries are.” Under the cowl, he fiddled with the mask’s rebreather, slipping off the controls at the side occasionally as his fingers began to tremble. “They’re pumping noxious gas into the hallway. Hence the hurry.”</p><p><em> Oh </em>. So that dizzying headache wasn’t from the stress of having a creepy Sith looming over her back.</p><p>As if on cue, her vision began to swim. She forced herself to work faster, but she felt her movements becoming unsteady, impairing her ability to punch in the commands she need to finish the slicing job.</p><p>Suddenly, every nerve in her body was on fire. Her limbs felt so heavy, as if all strength had been sapped from her, even lifting her hand up to the control panel felt like an unsurmountable obstacle.</p><p>So.</p><p>That was it, then.</p><p>She was going die, rather unceremoniously, freedom just within reach, her old friends on the other side of the blast door waiting for her to triumphantly emerge with the data chip.</p><p>Alone – well, in the company of a strange Sith, who was also beginning to sway, his whole body shaking from the sheer exertion of staying upright.</p><p>And no one was coming to rescue her.</p><p>Vette’s knees buckled and she stumbled forward until her forehead bumped into the wall, which felt inexplicably cold to the touch.</p><p>Maybe actually following orders properly would have been preferable, just this once. She definitely should not have slipped away from the crew on their night off. Zayathris didn’t even know what she was up to – she might assume Vette ended up in some back alley, raped and broken, like a pleasure slave who tried to run away. The Sith would probably take out her wrath on the patrons of a random seedy bar.</p><p>Somehow, that thought was even a little comforting, although it invariably meant more bloodshed.</p><p>She became aware of a faint, hand-shaped pressure between her shoulder blades which morphed into a sharp pain that crawled down into her lungs, filling them with ice. The oppressing sensation travelled up her throat, choking all air from her system. But instead of depriving her of the last remnants of oxygen, it made her feel oddly invigorated, the dark veil of impeding loss of consciousness replaced by the rush of sheer crushing terror pressing into her mind.</p><p>Before she even realised it, her fingers danced over the panel, working almost automatically, to put the finishing touches to the script.</p><p>Not a moment too soon, the doors slid open with a rumble.</p><p>The world still a blur around her, she lurched forward, embracing the putrid air of Nar Shaddaa with a deep inhale.</p><p>Next to her, the Sith collapsed on the ground, clawing at his face to pull off the mask as he struggled to take a breath.</p><p>The white of his eyes was a blood-shot pool in midst of which baleful golden irises gleamed, a predator peering out from the shadows. The Mirialan - okay, so that <em>might</em> explain a few things - coughed up a spray of blood, bending over to stare at the erratic crimson pattern on the floor in utter disbelief before proceeding to smear the liquid around with a gloved hand. A hysterical, gurgling laugh accompanied the nonsensical action. The man – now she could see how incredibly young he still had to be, the softness of youth rounding the edges of his gaunt features – looked between her and the ground, in a mixture of disbelief and revelry of the madness of the situation, before his eyes rolled back into his skull. He curled up on himself, falling forward until his face touched the ground. He stayed there, in that uncomfortable prostration, oddly still except for irregular, heaving breaths.</p><p>“Are you alright?” That was probably the wrong thing to ask when he <em>so clearly wasn’t</em>, probably hadn’t been for a long time, in a manner of speaking. Her Sith honorary sister wasn’t exactly a role model for restraint and kindness, but at least she didn’t usually go overboard on the cruelty and her general demeanour was a far cry from the sinister-crazy-broken the Mirialan before her exhibited.</p><p>Granted, he looked less menacing in his <em> current </em> state.</p><p>- Whack -</p><p>A stun baton made contact with his unprotected back, sending him crashing to the floor, where he stayed, limbs splaying.</p><p>“Whoah! Plasmajack, what the-”</p><p>“Damn, you had us worried, little girl.” The burly Twi’lek pointed to the unmoving form of the Sith. “He gave you any grief?”</p><p>“No, I mean...kriff, why did you have to hit him?” Vette took a controlled breath to get the trembling under control. “Guys, I am so glad to see you. I’ve got the data, too, but we need out of here asap or we’re gonna be in way more trouble than we can handle.”</p><p>“Trouble does not begin to describe what I am going to do to you.” A muffled voice rasped behind them. Her trusty blasters were in her hands in an instant but after that, Vette found that she could not move, an invisible vise enclosing her whole body.</p><p>Her friends Taunt and Plasmajack appeared to be in a similar predicament. The Sith – who, Vette realised, had never given his own name – slowly pushed himself off the floor and began to move towards them, first in a crawl, then a hunched-over walk, his cloak trailing over the ground, smudging the trail the blood gushing from his nose left behind him. He straightened his back as he came to stand before Taunt, and rolled his shoulders languidly, almost lasciviously, a manka cat flexing his muscles before going in for the kill. A crooked blood-smeared smirk split his bruised face. “I am going to take my time with you, scum. And you,” his eyes bore into Vette’s, “shall get the pleasure of watching your friends soil themselves in fear, weep for mercy and shriek incoherently as pain overwhelms their senses. I might grant them the respite of death afterwards, if you beg prettily, though. Can you sing? Actually, yeah, a song would be nice. Make it something cheerful.”</p><p>“No need for that.” Gratitude overwhelmed Vette upon seeing her Sith protector emerge from behind the rusting carcass of a large construction droid, lightsabre at the ready. “Why don’t <em>you</em> show us how to plead for mercy?”</p><p>The Mirialan’s grin only widened. “Oh, you brought all your friends. How cute.” Lightning sparked in the palm of his hand as he turned around slowly. “Don’t worry, you’ll receive my full attention once I am done with your pet Sith.”</p><p>Seeing his confidence despite his weakened state, Vette’s relief gave way to concern. What if the stranger was more than Zayathris could handle? She had expected a quiet, relaxed night to unwind after an exhausting string of assignments, wasn’t even wearing armour and had probably had a few drinks already. Vette would never forgive herself if it was her stupidity that-</p><p>“Roshinn?”</p><p>They <em> knew </em> each other?</p><p>The young man spat out a mouthful of blood in reply, clenching his fists.</p><p>“What did you to do to her?” Zayathris demanded harshly, her features twisted with cold fury.</p><p>“Heh, what a surprise. The girl was right, after all – she’s got an actual Sith at her beck and call. You seem awfully <em>fond</em> of her.”</p><p>The warrior was clearly not in the mood for games. “What<em> . </em> Did. You. Do.”</p><p>“Oh, you know, we got along swimmingly until her friend decided to try and crush my skull while I was recovering from – get this –<em> healing her</em>.”</p><p>“Vette? Is that true?” Vette felt the pressure ease a little, just enough to allow for a faint nod. When she had replied in the affirmative, Zayathris rolled her eyes, almost fondly. “This again? Will you never learn, Roshinn? You always walk right into stupid situations like that.”</p><p>“Yeah, and I walk out of them, too. Something that can’t be said for most others.”</p><p>To Vette’s utter surprise, Zayathris switched off her sabre. “It’s been a while.”</p><p>“Yeah. And you didn’t even say goodbye so don’t you kriffing claim you missed me or something.” He hissed, with more than a hint of sulkiness.</p><p>“You expect me to defy a direct order of Darth Baras for a gesture of pure sentimentality?”</p><p>That seemed to finally placate him, his murderous expression softening up around the edges. “I guess not. So, we’re not doing this, are we?” <em> This </em> apparently being launching into battle.</p><p>“No. Everyone’s still alive, right?” Her friend gave her an inquisitive look to determine whether she had any grievances against the Mirialan. “It would have been far from a fair fight, anyway. You look like something the kath hound dragged in. Had a bad day?”</p><p>“Depends. I'll let that insult slide for nostalgia's sake. Shall we catch up over a drink?”</p><p>Leave it to Sith to go straight to partying together after nearly killing each other.</p><p>###~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~###</p><p>The Sith began to clean up his face with the kolto gel and gauze the Captain cautiously handed him, mechanical arm trembling just a little. Seated next to Pierce, the Mirialan’s slight frame looked even tinier. Almost fragile. If you disregarded the obvious power radiating off him.</p><p>He proceeded to wave the establishments’ sole waitress over without even looking at her, and placed his order, pressing the gauze against his nostrils to staunch the bleeding.“A glass of Seikoshan brandy. And a ‘Zeltron Whore’. Make it strong.”</p><p>“Apologies, my lord, but Seikoshan is normally sold by the bottle-” The human woman began cautiously, but he interrupted her brusquely.</p><p>“Well, bring the bottle over, then.”</p><p>Relieved, she hurried off to not test the limits of the battered-looking customer’s forgiving mood further.</p><p>“Unconventional choice, <em>Lord Kallig</em>.” Zayathris downed the watery remnants of her neglected drink.</p><p>“You know what the secret ingredient is? A triple shot of <em>tihaar</em>. Best kind of painkiller there is.”</p><p>What emerged underneath a layer of dried blood was a surprisingly handsome face, especially with the dark lines and veins reduced to a minimum now that he was visibly happier and relaxed. Unusually arranged tattoos, fewer that the Mirialans Vette knew had, although they certainly could not boast of more accomplishments and milestones in life than a Sith. A shock of short silver-white hair that seemed to have been gelled up at one point in that spiky way some humans liked, from what she had seen in clubs. A look rarely seen in the Empire, where military regulations forbid such attempts at individuality. As for Sith, they had no such limitations, but they would probably consider it a bit too vulgar and possibly even, well, <em> Republic</em>. He had removed his ruined outer layer of clothing in an attempt to make himself more presentable, but it still looked more roughshod than imposingly elegant, which was not the overall intention.</p><p>“Mandalorian booze?”</p><p>The man shrugged indifferently, tipping his head backwards to prevent the remaining slow trickle of blood from flowing out of his nose. “The Duros gin and a splash of muja syrup make it borderline palatable. And it comes with a nice purple straw, so that’s a plus, too.”</p><p>That’s...one heck of a strong drink, enough to get a rancor at least a bit tipsy, deceptively frilly decoration notwithstanding.</p><p>Quinn seemed to have similar concerns, as he exchanged a dubious look with his superior before addressing the Mirialan. “My lord, if you require a kolto shot-”</p><p>He cut the officer off with an impatient gesture. “If I needed anything from you, don’t you think I would have let you know?” Eyes widening, Quinn snapped his mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked.</p><p>Good to see not everyone fell for his oh-so-subservient model officer act, Vette thought, allowing a private smirk.</p><p>Continuously keeping eye contact with the other Sith as if to dare him to object, Zayathris reached for the bottle of brandy when it arrived, pouring everyone at a table a drink with the grace of a perfect hostess. Knowing her, and considering the self-ironic grin she sported, it was a gesture to show him who was in charge. Vette wasn't so sure - anyone who could survive exposure to that poison gas and, to top it off, keep another person alive and conscious for what had seemed like minutes without oxygen, even at the cost of his own health, had to be extremely powerful. And careless about the integrity of his own body, but that was a different matter.</p><p>Great, more power games.</p><p>When she handed the shot glass to Vette, she gave her a look of pure reproach.</p><p>“I know.” The Twi’lek sighed. “I am really sorry.”</p><p>“We will discuss this on the ship. For now, I intend to spend a pleasant night out without further distractions.”</p><p>Kallig peered at Vette over the rim of his enormous cocktail glass, waggling his eyebrows sardonically.</p><p>“How did you find me, anyway?” That was the million-credit question, wasn’t it?</p><p>“Quinn put a tracker into your stealth generator. He’ll be cross with me for telling, though, so you owe me, Vette.” The Imperial gave no reaction, although he had clearly overheard their conversation.</p><p>“Cleaning duty for a month?”</p><p>“And cooking. That droid is driving me crazy with his attempts to optimise my nutrition.”</p><p>Vette sighed to underline her suffering. "May I reprogram his nutritional ruleset instead?"</p><p>"Why not? Up the average use of spices while you're at it." No hard feelings, it seemed. Sith forgiveness was a weirdly random thing.</p><p> </p><p>As the night wore on, the banter got more animated, with the two Sith sharing anecdotes and reminiscing about their Academy days. Why did Vette get the impression the two had history, as in, ‘history’? The odd thing was, the Mirialan hardly seemed Zayathris’ type and the way he occasionally eyed up the male patrons of the bar indicated he had other preferences, too.</p><p>Despite most likely weighing even less soaking wet than Vette, he hardly appeared buzzed, although he had consumed several shots of brandy on top of his ridiculously alcoholic concoction, his tongue tinged a poisonous purple from the syrup. Had to have an amazing metabolism, or be privy to a secret Force technique for purging an insane amount of ethanol that would have put Vette into an early grave, despite her regularly getting practise in drinking contests with Pierce. With ale, not hard booze, mind you. She didn’t enjoy the luxury of having two livers, like Zeltrons did. Last time she checked, though, Mirialans had no such adaptations, and neither did humans or Red Sith.</p><p>“You got an apprentice on your own yet?”</p><p>So if it was a Force thing, he could teach it to Zayathris, because that woman was an absolute nightmare on a hangover, second only to Jaesa. Speaking of which, the apprentice was nowhere to be seen, so that did not bode well for the quality of life on the ship for the next couple of days.</p><p>Kallig casually knocked back another drink before murmuring in reply, “two-thirds of my apprentices have died so far.”</p><p>“Not an impressive track record, to say the least. <em>Multiple</em> apprentices already, though?” Zayathris asked in disbelief.</p><p>“What can I say, I am immensely popular.” Clearly, humility was not one of his best qualities.</p><p>“Not with Thanaton.”</p><p>“You heard about that? A minor nuisance that’ll be rectified soon.”</p><p>“But an actual kriffing <em>Kaggath</em>? Shouldn’t you be busy, I don’t know, fortifying your powerbase or something?”</p><p>“I am, which led me to Nar Shaddaa. But I got tipped off about something <em>personal</em>, so I decided to have a bit of fun. The calm before the storm, so speak. Too bad I was too late. The guy I came for was dead already. But the evening has taken a rather pleasant turn regardless, wouldn't you say?”</p><p>Murdering an entire chapter of the Black Sun was apparently his idea of peace and quiet.</p><p>“Indeed. However, if you get bored of us, that smuggler's been watching you for some time now.” Zayathris commented drily, tilting her head into the direction of a brawny human male who possessed what you would euphemistically describe as roguish charm.</p><p>Kallig barked a laugh, before surreptitiously pressing his palm into his side, clearly unwilling to show in how much pain he was really. “Not today. You want to get me killed without dirtying your hands, is that it? I know his type, a guy like that is more likely to break my nose for real than to show me good time. Thanks, I'll pass.”</p><p>Speaking like he was no stranger to such occurences.</p><p>What lovely company.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Post-Quinncident, hence his prosthetic arm.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Sparks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<dd class="western">„<em>Whoever sheds the most blood wins. To the victor, eternal glory. To the loser, death and shame." </em>
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<dd class="western">―Darth Thanaton</dd>
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  <strong>13 ATC, Dromund Kaas</strong>
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</dl><p>The man was squirming before him, convulsing almost rhythmically as if in the throes of ecstasy.</p><p>Three minutes.</p><p>Which actually constituted a new record and could be a rather impressive show of resilience.</p><p>If only the overall display wasn't so spectacularly pathetic.</p><p>Time's up.</p><p>Eyes rolling back into his skull to reveal popped veins in his eyeballs, the Sith gave one last shudder before he sank to the ground. Foamy spittle still dripped from his slack jaw, saturating his salt-and-pepper beard with the faintly pink liquid.</p><p>Just as well. He had been one of Thanaton's spoiled pets, little doubt about that, so he would have been purged from the ranks eventually anyway. Loyalty was hard to come by, especially amongst those foolishly clinging to the old ways for tradition's sake. A figure like Thanaton, staunch in his conservative view of the Force and what it meant to be Sith, had certainly attracted that kind of people in droves. Like a swarm of bloodflies flocking to a putrid wound and laying their eggs into the victim's flesh, their influence was a tainting one, corrupting the Empire from within.</p><p>Darth Nox sighed inwardly and turned his attention to his other visitor, the unfortunate Imperial Reclamation Service supervisor the Sith had tried to pin his own failings on.</p><p>"For your sake, I sincerely hope <em> your </em> reports contain no such intentionally fabricated falsehoods?"</p><p>The officer tore her eyes away from the oddly contorted corpse and straightened her back before launching into a crisp explanation, albeit with a tremor in her voice indicating that she was aware of her precarious situation. "My lord, you shall find the documents in perfect order. Not a single number has been embellished. No mission, success or failure, has been left out."</p><p>"And what about actual <em> results? </em>Will I be satisfied by the content of said reports?"</p><p>"Ah...I...I cannot guarantee that." She took a deep breath to compose herself. "I am afraid some departments have failed to live up to our stringent standards in the past, but I can assure you that most have already begun to implement the initial improvements you decreed-"</p><p>"Good. I expect weekly updates of your progress. Keep them <em> conscise</em>, I don't have all day." The woman nodded dutifully, not quite allowing herself to feel relieved just yet by the fact that she would live to serve for at least another standard week. "Now, get out and make yourself useful. <em> Invaluable</em>, even."</p><p>The Dark Councillor leaned back into his high-backed chair, sliding down a little to allow for a more relaxed posture before propping his boots up on the cluttered desk, gingerly pushing a stack of datapads aside in the process to make more space. Enjoy reading he might, but the repetitive nature of decades-worth of reports about the day-to-day operations of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge turned the normally pleasant activity into a chore, so he had not even made a dent into the piles of documents over the past few weeks. It certainly did not help that the writings were compiled in the most stilted, pedantic-about-protocol way possible, managing to suck the last bit of enjoyment out of the pursuit of knowledge. Even worse, it slowly emerged that most findings were absolutely pointless, devoid of practical applications. Few holocrons, even fewer ghosts. A fair share of treasured artifacts appeared to be as useless as a crate of ancient buttplugs – to think that several battalions worth of officers and scientists had died retrieving them. Karking ridiculous. And the things that potentially promised a sizeable amount of power rotted away in storage because Thanaton had feared his servants might gain an advantage over him if they studied and ultimately used them.</p><p>"Oh, thank you, your Exalted Eminence, Night of the Empire..." He for sure didn't need a kriffing herald, at least not when he was the only one around to hear the pointless litany of titles.</p><p>"...Eternal Lord of the Unseen, mighty-" And cue even more waste of oxygen.</p><p>Nox flicked his wrist apathetically, sending a dusty book flying from his desk into the officer's direction. Too busy backing out of the office, hunched over like a skurvy-ridden womp-rat, she completely failed to duck. The rather hefty tome hit her square in the face with a resonding crunch, causing the middle-aged woman to scramble through the doorway in a fearful hurry, one hand pressed to the base of her nose. Blood trickled through her fingers, staining her hitherto pritistinely white cuffs.</p><p>"Ah-ah. No quite so fast. I daresay you forgot <em> something </em>."</p><p>The Imperial's eyes bulged comically as she got the hint, but she poured herself into the distasteful task with no complaints, if one disregarded her strained grunts as she dragged the limp body out, leaving behind a smeared trail of dark crimson droplets on the red and black marbled floor.</p><p>
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</p><p>Major Ilun stood rooted in place, wisely making no offer to help while the grotesque duo crept past him at an agonizingly slow pace, until the door closed behind them at last. His face was an impassive facade of resolve as he approached the Dark Councillor, having witnessed the scene in its entirety from the ante-chamber while waiting for his appointment.</p><p>"You demanded my presence, my lord?"</p><p>"I did. You're late." Nox stated matter-of-factly, still reclining casually in his too large chair. "By three <em> days</em>."</p><p>To his credit, the officer did not cower. "My apologies. I was already enroute to our interim post in the Sullustan Sector when the orders to return to Dromund Kaas at your request reached me."</p><p>The young Darth jolted to a more upright position. "Who authorised that?" A reassignment, without consulting him?</p><p>"Uh, I believe I was slated to be deployed there before the worsening situation on Corellia required the presence of more troops. "</p><p>Granted, the matter, trivial as it was, had slipped his mind, what with his attention being gobbled up by establishing a firmer grip on his powerbase and settling into his new duties as a member of the Council. To be honest, at least to himself, for all his ambitions, he had not really thought beyond killing Thanaton or considered the tedious burden of politics that came with besting him in the Kaggath the now dead Darth had declared. Nox was still learning the ropes, trying to figure out the best approach to actually gain followers for himself – and keep them, preferably alive. All while cleaning up what was left of his former rival's powerbase, slowly screening his supporters to assess their usefulness and potential for loyalty.</p><p>So neglecting assets like Ilun was a minor oversight. Annoying, but ultimately of little consequence in the grand scheme of things. But now that the major was here -</p><p>"Any new inventions lately?"</p><p>"I have been able to improve the formula of the beast attraction serum based on your results - thank you immensely for sending me such a detailed report, by the way. Other than that... regrettably, no, as they are only side projects which I cannot allow to take time off of my main duties."</p><p>A pity.</p><p>"That new post, do you believe it will enable you to optimally apply your skills?"</p><p>Caution crept into Ilun's expression. "I have no objections to it. Of course, we all must do our part regardless of personal preference."</p><p>A resounding <em> No</em>, then.</p><p>"There are aspects of this position of power I feel similarly about."</p><p>"I cannot begin to fathom what being a Dark Councillor entails, my lord." Ilun replied hesitantly, but his posture began to relax gradually, although he was clearly baffled by the intimate admission. "If I may ask, <em> Night of the Empire? </em>"</p><p>"Many, if not most Reclamation Service members have at least a basic grasp of the Sith language. She was making a allusion to the meaning of my title." Nox shrugged, not attempting to hide his displeasure. "Not a particularly flattering one, to my mind. I'd rather be the herald of a new dawn instead."</p><p>"Well, night precedes dawn, so there's that. Perhaps it was also a veiled reference to the state of your office."</p><p>Nox raised a dubious brow, taken aback by the faintly cheeky humour peeking out from underneath the practised veneer of subservience. Ilun certainly was an interesting specimen, with a kind of low-key forwardness that made him appear unquestionably competent despite his typically guarded demeanour.</p><p>Well, it was rather gloomy in here. Why open the blinds, though? His tired eyes hurt enough already and the scenery outside was hardly uplifting. "The lighting is suboptimal, I agree, but otherwise there's too much unfinished work staring back at me." The Sith gestured around, deciding to indulge the major by giving a small smile in return. "The, ahem, social demands only make things even more tiresome. With great power comes a lot of nagging, apparently. Of course, there are those who perceive the transition as a power vacuum giving them the opportunity to vie for more influence. Others simply can't handle change well. And change there must be. Sometimes I'd love to kill them all off and start from scratch, but that seems supremely wasteful."</p><p>Ilun was unfazed by the threatening undertone of the Sith's monologue. "And create a lot of flimsiwork, not to mention the resulting lack of servants..."</p><p>"Indeed." Nox chuckled lightly. "But I haven't called you here to listen to my complaints."</p><p>"I'll gladly do that if necessary." The Imperial responded without missing a beat.</p><p>"Oh, dedicated as always. I'd rather celebrate than talk politics for the twentieth time today. Actually, I have not had much time for anything enjoyable since my ascension. Take my mind off work, would you?"</p><p><em> "</em>Ah. Well. Of course. <em> " </em>The brief flicker in the somewhat older man's eyes indicated that he had some ideas about that, but he seemed to have decided against voicing them for the time being.</p><p>Nox had already risen from his seat and sauntered over to a cabinet, retrieving a half-empty bottle filled with a syrupy, bilious green liquid and two glasses, which he promptly filled to the brim before handing one to the officer. He accepted it with a quizzical look. "Abzhentá. A specialty of the Mirialan diaspora. You see, I've being trying to embrace my heritage a bit more. Well, this stuff is actually one of the better findings. And no, the colour is just a <em> coincidence</em>, a byproduct of the infusion process." He was by no means insecure about the colour of his skin, but few things irked him more than incorrect assumptions about non-human species, displaying a kind of mindless stupidity unbecoming of a senior officer. One of the more ridiculous ideas being that the Mirialans' greenish hue was due to their predominantly plant-based dietary requirements – which marked them as a weaker, inferior species to the average Imperial, considering that their point of reference were the mostly carnivorous Purebloods.</p><p>"I would not have questioned it."</p><p>Nox raised the glass in a sardonically patriotic toast. "To the Empire's might."</p><p>"To your health and everlasting glory, my lord."</p><p>Ilun took a tentative sip under the watchful gaze of his superior. "Your impression?"</p><p>"It has a rather unique taste, simultaneously pungent and flowery. Admittedly, it's not the most adventurous concoction I've tasted, but it's immensely pleasant. Considering the lack of a sharp alcoholic note, I would assume it to be of the highest quality." He explained almost reverently.</p><p>Nox nodded in satisfaction, glad to have been correct in his assessment that the major, as an apparent connoisseur of the exotic, would appreciate the unusual drink.</p><p>"Only suitable for the occasion. Make yourself comfortable." At that, Ilun cautiously sat down at a respectful distance and nursed his drink slowly while taking in his surroundings. Feeling the need to break the ensuing silence, he commented. "Somehow, I always imagined your tastes to be less ... austere."</p><p>"It was much worse before. The sofa is a recent addition. Might as well be comfortable while getting all that reading done." Nox downed the rest of his drink in one drought before refilling the glass, offering to do the same for Ilun even though he wasn't even half-way through the herbal spirit. "You spent much time fantasising about the interior design of my office?"</p><p>"I don't have much of an interest in architecture or furniture." The major gave a nervous chuckle. "So, not about that in particular."</p><p>"Granted, my desk is currently less inviting than yours was on Balmorra." Nox noted, the corners of his lips twitching with the beginnings of a provocative smirk.</p><p>Ilun choked on his drink he had been about to finish, spitting a mouthful of the spirit back into the glass. He had not fully recuperated from the ensuing violent coughing fit when the Dark Councillor asserted with finality, "This won't do."</p><p>"I apologise, sir." The Imperial ground out somewhat helplessly, his voice still hoarse.</p><p>"It's nonsensical." Nox continued, paying him no mind. "Inefficient." It was another prime example of the mismanagement of the Empire. Short on manpower in comparison to the Republic, it was not as if they could afford to waste a brilliant asset on a mindless post.</p><p>"I, uh... What is?"</p><p>"Your reassignment."</p><p>"Oh." Ilun gave up trying to look dignified while regaining his breath and settled for gingerly wiping his face with his sleeve, a resigned expression on his face. "Well, perhaps you could bring it up with General Darvath-"</p><p>Nox cut him off immediately with a harsh laugh. "No. I don't believe I have to petition a general for such a trivial matter."</p><p>Appearing crestfallen, Ilun backtracked hastily, "I am sorry for appearing presumptuous-"</p><p>"Not at all. You're assigned to <em>me</em>. Effective immediately. Head of Experimental Research or something. I am sure you'll come with something suitable."</p><p>The Imperial blinked in bafflement. <em>"</em>I wasn't aware the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge has a science division at its disposal, apart from the facilities of the Reclamation Service."</p><p>"It has now." The Dark Councillor grinned, a mischievous gleam shining in his amber eyes. "As for the funding ... I want you to take an active role in supporting the supervision of the I.R.S.'s day-to-day operation. Balmorra has sufficently equipped you with the necessary managing skills, has it not? The more efficiently you allocate resources for excavations and the follow-up explorations, the more funding you'll have for creative research."<em><br/><br/></em>Ilun appeared at a loss for words, but as his resolve grew, he tentatively leaned forward towards the Sith. Before he could begin to express his gratitude in a more tangible, physical way, Nox caught him by the collar, his expression stern. The Sith quickly relaxed his painful grip again, letting his hand slide downwards until it came to rest on the officer's chest, fingers splayed, to push him away gently.<br/><em><br/>"</em>If you believe a blowjob is appropriate to secure such a promotion, I truly wonder about the rest of your career so far."</p><p>"I didn't mean... I must've... misread..." Shocked by the unexpected turn of the situation, Ilun fell silent and sat frozen in place, giving him a pleading look. Nox kept his hand in place, relishing the warmth radiating from the Imperial's skin, feeling the heart beating frantically beneath.</p><p>A single thought from him, a little squeeze with the Force and it would stop. No effort required at all. He was hyper-aware of the rhythmically contracting blood vessels, the heady rush as he focused on the way the blood flowed through them.</p><p>The subtle shifts in body temperature.</p><p>The minute flutter of muscle fibres.</p><p>The Force in him creating a resonance with the flickering electricity of the neural pathways.</p><p>And not only did he sense all that, he could manipulate it as he pleased.</p><p>The now squirming man was entirely at his mercy. It was such a small thing in comparison to his many actually impressive achievements and displays of true power, but <em> this </em> particular kind of power never failed to have an intoxicating effect on him. How easily, casually even, he could cause pain - and pleasure - alike. One could even turn into the other.</p><p>When he made use of that talent, the world would narrow to a single point, a beautiful gleaming orb pulsating with life, containing a whole symphony of sensations, available at a mere touch.</p><p>The body at its basest, laid bare before him, nerve-endings singing with delight or ablaze with agony. Such vast power, intimate in every possible way, tingling at his fingertips, and the choice was his to make-</p><p>"I don't want you to do anything out of a misguided sense of obligation. There's no <em> truth </em> in duty." His hot breath ghosted over the major's neck, causing the older man to shiver beside him. "Duty is a poison that sullies even the purest of passions."</p><p>He abruptly stood up and walked back to the cabinet where he kept various alcoholic beverages, turning his back towards the now thoroughly confused Imperial. He returned with the intricately decorated bottle and poured himself as well as his guest another drink before plopping back on the couch, just out of touching range.</p><p>"Let's discuss your future work environment. You haven't heard about the ordeal of Lt. Utnar and his team on Tattooine, have you?"</p><p>Ilun haltingly shook his head, still reeling from the mental whiplash of the abrupt change in topics.</p><p>"I hadn't, either, until the day before yesterday. A kriffing Force nexus in the middle of the desert, likely caused by a holocron, I'd wager. But instead of receiving the requested reinforcements, they were left to their own devices. Pirates, they could deal with. Tusken raiders, too. Ultimately, they fell prey to internal politicking."</p><p>"They...starved? Succumbed to exposure?"</p><p>"That would have be a pleasant way to die, in comparison. They ended up eating one another. Slowly."</p><p>The officer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as Nox continued detailing the unit's gruesome fate with barely veiled gleeful enthusiasm of discussing an exciting anomaly.</p><p>"Some sort of madness overcame them, prompting to, well, offer themselves up to the others to be torn asunder, limb by limb. According to the autopsy performed on his mangled corpse, the lieutenant was likely still alive while his organs were being consumed."</p><p>"Kriff." Ilun gasped out.</p><p>"Speaking from personal experience, Tatooine in particular seems to a hub for crazy things like that."</p><p>Nox could tell that despite his first reaction being one of abject disgust, the major was already considering the potential applications of the described anomaly.</p><p>"It might be possible to weaponise such vergences. If only we could get it to specifically target Republic personnel, it could be a powerful tool ... In the right hands, of course."</p><p>In a sense, they were kindred spirits, as it turned out. "Your deviously twisted mind is quite <em> delightful.</em>"</p><p>"Ahem." A faint blush appeared high on Ilun's cheeks, emphasizing his delicate features. "Thank you, my lord."</p><p>
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</p><p>As the evening wore on, Nox detailed a handful of experiences, with a particular emphasis on the weirder phenomena and narrow brushes with death, for his rapt audience of one.</p><p class="western">"Sounds like a life far more interesting than mine." Ilun commented sincerely, if a little inebriated. "Your relentless pursuit of power and knowledge sets an example every Imperial should aspire to emulate."</p><p>"I have always believed that knowledge will ultimately win out over the lightsabre and the blaster."</p><p>"A sensible approach." The officer cleared his throat. "I mean no offense, but I have a hard time picturing you eschewing a violent solution."</p><p>"As if any Sith could claim to be insulted by assertions of bloodthirstiness." Without taking his eyes off the Imperial, Nox reclined into the cushions wearing a sardonic smirk. "Knowledge is an immensely powerful tool. Alas, the fun factor pales in comparison to lightning. I've got a few more stories to share, if you're interested. So you see, it's not just dusty old scrolls and trinkets were dealing with here. Sometimes you even come across ancient weapons of mass destruction, animate statues or orgy-inducing force traps." And that was just a tiny taste to whet the man's appetite for the strange and vicious.</p><p>"That exists, too? By the Emperor-"</p><p>"No need for that here." Nox scoffed irritatedly.</p><p>Ilun tried to make sense of his gruff interjection. "...the expression?"</p><p>"Hm. Why invoke an absentee emperor as though he was a deity of some sort?"</p><p>Ilun's eyes grew comically wide as he glanced around, as if someone could overhear them. "That's...blasphemous."</p><p>"That's precisely the point. I shall believe in his superiority if, and only if, he proves that he truly is more powerful than me or anyone else on the Dark Council, for that matter. He'd have to show up for that in the first place. And I don't mean in person, not his kriffing <em>Wrath.</em>"</p><p>"You're not afraid? Even the Lord Wrath...after just a few months of her tenure, fear of her exceeds that of the whole Council put together, I'd argue. Especially with her being a direct extension of the Emperor's will. Not to mention her own track record."</p><p>"Is that so? A shame such weak-mindedness has not been purged from the Empire. But perhaps that's by design." Nox suppressed a yawn. "Everyone has something they'd bleed for, a fatal flaw in the structure that is their life. I happen to know hers."</p><p>Ilun wisely did not push him further on the topic. "But the Emperor is supposedly immortal, after all. And he has lead the Empire through the darkest of times. Without him, we would be <em> nothing</em>."</p><p>"And where is he now that we are at war with our nemesis once more? Minding his own business, or, well... Have you ever contemplated just <em>how</em> he supposedly became immortal? At what cost? <em>I have</em>. You might not like the answer. The Empire would not worship him if they knew what they are dealing with." Nox chuckled darkly. "If it's any consolation: Sooner or later, <em>I</em> will sit on that throne. Mark my words, Major."</p><p>"I look forward to that glorious day."</p><p>Of all sudden, Ilun gave a slight shudder. "Curious. Oh..." He trailed off. Lips parted, he stared into the distance as he explored the sensations he had begun to experience, "Am I correct in assuming that this liquor has psychoactive properties?"</p><p>Nox nodded appreciatively at the observation. "The response varies from individual to individual though. While it's mostly euphoriant, for some it acts as a mild aphrodisiac as well."</p><p>"I've experimented with various substances on myself, otherwise I would not have be able to amass as much knowledge about said chemicals. Prisoners weren't always a viable option..." He sighed wistfully. "At any rate, this is extraordinarily pleasant. A low-key buzz, no disorientation, no disconcerting visual or auditory hallucinations." He noted routinely, as if it was another of his experiments. "Frankly, though, I could have done without the aphrodisiac effect."</p><p>"Does my presence make you uncomfortable?"</p><p>"No, the tightness of my pants is what has been making me uncomfortable for a while now, and this isn't exactly improving the situation." Ilun responded flippantly, letting his legs fall apart just so.</p><p>Bold.</p><p>And entirely as expected.</p><p>"For a while, you say?" A sly grin appeared on Nox' face. "It would be remiss of me not to do anything to alleviate your suffering."</p><p>"At the moment you're compounding it." The Imperial drew in a sharp breath as the hand that had pushed his advances away earlier began tracing his jawline.</p><p>"What if that is my intention?"</p><p>Ilun did not manage to get a reply in before a gloved finger slipped into his mouth, quickly followed by a second one. Pupils dilating, he began to suck on them with enthusiasm, sloppily covering them in spittle, while his hands slid down Nox' spine until they reached his backside. He gave it a few gentle squeezes before pulling the lite body into his lap. While Nox busied himself nipping at the major's neck, he pushed up the skirt-like lower robes to allow for ease of access to the clasp of the Sith's belt. As he undid the fastenings, the younger man removed his fingers and captured his mouth in a hungry kiss, grinding his hips against his until he elicited a wanton moan from the man beneath him. Fingers caressed the back of his neck, tipping his head backwards to expose his throat. The skirt cluttered to the floor as Nox rose to tower above him, belt finally undone. An invisible, disembodied force tugged at his chin, prompting him to open up again. When he felt the warmth of the Sith's heavy cock slowly slipping into his eager mouth, filling his throat possessively, Ilun realised that the various elaborate fantasies he had entertained over the years did no justice to the actual experience.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Nah, I just can't. </p><p>For what it's worth, I'd assume Nox to be about 21/22 (a little younger than Ashara, plus he spent longer at the Academy compared to e.g. the SW) and Maj. Ilun in his very early thirties. Also, the in-game dialogue is so insanely immature at times...</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Magnetism</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My favourite chapter so far.<br/>Spoiler for "Annihilation" by Drew Karpyshin.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<em>Not the most subtle hint, but yeah, we need to keep going.” - Theron Shan</em></p><p><b>Yavin 4 – 16</b> <b>ATC</b></p><p> </p><p>“Still unhappy?” His companion chimed up from behind after keeping the silent armistice all throughout the gruelling trek through the overgrown valley. “There’re no other sentient beings in the vicinity, so the reverberations of your mood in the Force are quite a distraction. As is the view, but that is not nearly as annoying.” As if to avoid being overheard, he added in a lower voice, “Quite the contrary, actually.”</p><p>Still audible enough. Probably not talking about the lush scenery, though as to why the Sith had decided mid-mission was an appropriate time to make veiled come-ons, Theron was at a loss. Not that the Imp’s general presence wasn’t already disconcerting enough.</p><p>Anyway, so <em>that’s</em> the approach he was taking. Unexpected from someone of his reputation (was it?), but nothing the spy wasn’t experienced in dealing with. Regrettably. “Feel free to walk faster, then.”</p><p>“Well, Agent Shan, how about you <em>take cover</em> faster next time we encounter one of those pests.”</p><p>“The offer of a kolto bandage is still up. I am <em>not</em> going to poison you, if that’s your concern. Besides, no one forced you to shield me.” Nox had certainly surprised him with that move. The stoneray’s attack would not have killed Theron, but getting slashed across his unprotected back would definitely have led to having to abort the mission. Not his mission anymore, in fact, his part was done. At the moment, he was merely following Nox’ lead, wondering what the <em>kriff</em> the sorcerer had brought him along for.</p><p>So, maybe protecting him was not quite as altruistic as it seemed at first glance.</p><p>“That is certainly true. However, I’d prefer to bring you back fully intact, so as not to stir up animosity between our respective factions.” Abruptly, Darth Nox stopped his leisurely pace, intently glancing around the small clearing in the valley. “It would reflect poorly on my skills if I got everyone’s <em>darling</em> SIS agent killed. Also, the wound will be finished healing in no time.” To prove his point, he gave his shoulder an experimental roll, without flinching even a little. “I take it you’re still not convinced I mean you no harm?”</p><p>To be honest, there had been nothing inherently threatening – albeit very unsettling – about the Dark Councillor’s demeanour so far, but one just can’t switch off professional paranoia at will. It would be a stupid thing to do in the presence of a Sith, of all people.</p><p>“I’m...wary of your motives, rather.” Theron admitted, feigning fearful reluctance. After all, amicable conversations with Sith Lords outside of combat situations were few and far in between, even for him, let alone traversing a winding ravine with one in pursuit of a common goal. Whatever that goal was, now that they had fixed that pesky sensor array issue.</p><p>Lana or the Wrath, while also Sith and very evidently so, were in a league of their own. “Frankly, you don’t strike me as the kind of person to value inter-faction cooperation all that highly.”</p><p>Not to mention how much out of character the Dark Councillor’s amiable behaviour towards him appeared to be, from what he had heard about him, from Republic and Imperial sources alike.</p><p>He craned up his head, scanning the rock formations above. Little creeks emerged between fleshy plants nestled into the jagged structure and turned into miniature waterfalls on their way down. This part of the jungle could be rather scenic, suitable for a relaxed stroll while wide-eyedly taking in the varied wonders of nature, if only it wasn’t so kriffing <em> deadly.</em></p><p>“While incorrect for the most part, I’m glad I am giving someone that impression – my own people appear to have a diametrically opposed opinion of my priorities, it seems.”</p><p>That unexpected admission perked Theron’s interest. “How so?”</p><p>“‘Aliens’ are potential traitors, weren’t you aware?” The biting sarcasm was obvious despite the grating distortion of the vocoder.</p><p>“Not particularly, no?” The Empire was of course infamous for its xenophobia, but that hardly had much relevance when it came to the social standing of one of the most influential Sith, could it? Besides-</p><p>Nox reached up to open the clasps of his masks, removing the grotesque metallic visage to reveal a youthful face, with diamond-shaped tattoos framing glowing amber eyes. A Mirialan. Now that bit of intel hadn’t been in any dossier. Same went for his obviously very young age. Theron could easily be five years his senior – or more. It was hard to tell, what with the Dark Side corruption’s typically unfavourable effect on one’s features that tended to age people prematurely.</p><p>Not that Nox’ appearance was technically unpleasant. Well, the unnatural eye colour did him no favours in Theron’s opinion – as in a strictly professional assessment, of course. Apart from that, the Mirialan was unexpectedly easy on the eyes, in a non-conventional way.</p><p>“United by a common foe…” Nox chuckled in derision. “This situation – the truce you and Beniko brokered – is absolutely unprecedented. And more volatile than you seem to realise. Tension runs so high in both camps, it’s almost tangible.” He took a deep breath, savouring the air, as if the oppressing humidity was pleasurable to him. “People tend to jump to conclusions based on their prejudices.”</p><p>“Why did you insist on dragging me along, then?”</p><p>“Can’t fault me for wanting to enjoy the company of a handsome man in this Force-forsaken jungle?” <em>Right</em>. This again.</p><p>The Wrath had given him a glimpse of the terrible flirting style, if that was even a thing, the Sith apparently tended to favour and it seemed Nox was no different, likely employing such tactics in an attempt unbalance him instead of outright threats and violence.</p><p>“I highly doubt you’re solely motivated by, uh, hedonistic pursuits.”</p><p>Nox flashed him a brilliant grin. A knowing one. “Nice try, Agent Shan. Now, it takes far more than a pretty face to get anywhere close to figuring me out. In all seriousness, though, while I am perfectly capable of venturing into that temple on my own, it’s usually better to have backup going on explorations like that. Given your obvious connection to this place, or rather its current spiritual occupant, you’re the perfect candidate. Not to mention the fact that the Wrath is practically gushing with praise about your skills and work ethics. As for the political implications... don’t concern yourself with my affairs.”</p><p>“That’s hardly something I am worried about. I am sure you can handle yourself. And I have little issue with you turning the Imp camp into scorched earth for gossiping about your loyalties. Just restrain yourself until we’ve dealt with Revan, would you?</p><p>“So bloodthirsty.” Nox tilted his head, still sporting that infuriatingly chipper expression as he apparently recategorized the Republic spy in his mind. “When did you join the SIS?” Hard to tell if it was a friendly smile or something along the lines of a predator giving a glimpse of his teeth.</p><p>“At 16.” Tactical disclosure to gain trust.</p><p>“Impressive. Easily more than a decade of active service, then. Surely that deserves a medal for longevity in your line of work.”</p><p>“Not as a disavowed agent.” Theron shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m basically on administrative leave at the moment.” That was not even close to the shitshow his borderline treasonous actions must have created behind the scenes of the SIS, but Nox did not question it.</p><p>True, it was rare to see action as frequently as he did and not end up strapped to a torture chair with a blaster shot between the eyes or, if skilled enough to avoid such a fate, eventually begging for a desk job. However, the latter would kill him much faster than clashing with the Empire ever could, either from boredom or lack of rest, if he actually approached the more tedious flimsiwork tmwith his usual work ethic.</p><p>“You seem unhappy about the <em>freedom</em> granted to you by that.” Nox was unfortunately of the more perceptive sort. Perhaps it that was yet another one of the things he could just <em>sense</em>.</p><p>“I’d prefer to have an actual job.”</p><p>“But then I’d really have to kill you.” The Sith’s purred dangerously as his eyes darkened. “I happen like our present arrangement. Far more carefree.”</p><p>Instinctively, Theron took a step backwards, although with enough presence of mind to sidestep the nest of glowing fungi growing behind him. Another innocuous health hazard. In response, Nox closed the distance between them, just short of the fabric of his skirt sweeping over Theron’s boots.</p><p>“Afraid I’ll murder you in this jungle and dump your mutilated body in a swamp after you’ve outlived your usefulness, despite my assurances to the contrary? After all, even state-of-the-art implants and poison dart gauntlets are rather susceptible to <em>lightning</em>. Not to mentions blasters...”</p><p>Talk about mixed messages. “Something along those lines, yeah.” Theron cleared his throat pointedly. “Zayathris would not be happy about that turn of events.”</p><p>Nox snorted a sardonic laugh. “Obviously so, when our dear Wrath prioritised rescuing <em>you</em> on Rishi over dealing with the battle raging over the planet or dealing the final blow to the Revanites, leaving the majority of the work to me. And the fun of making them choke on their own blood, so I am not complaining. With that stubborn sense of honour, she really is the perfect choice for spearheading this operation. Just so you know, the newly appointed <em>Commander</em> of this lovely temporary alliance is a close friend, so don’t feel special for having worked alongside her for a few months. She tends to be oddly protective of her allies, but regardless of that, rest assured I have no intention of incurring her ire – or harming you.”</p><p>“Wait, you were there? On Rishi?” That fact was … new. And disturbing, for a myriad of reasons, on top of being the most significant bit of intel gleamed from the conversation so far.</p><p>“A fortuitous coincidence.”</p><p><em> Kriff.</em> “Then it was you who caused the cannons to fire on the Republic fleet? I just knew the official story didn’t quite add up.”</p><p>The Sith gave a non-committal hum, as if he couldn’t bring himself to care about the deaths his actions caused on the Republic side, hundreds of absolutely unnecessary, avoidable casualties. Actually, things like that probably <em>were</em> below his notice. “Marr’s reasonable. He was going to listen to the Wrath anyway. The Grandmaster – not so much. I figured I had to give her some incentive to stop the misguided assault.”</p><p>“She’s a <em>Jedi. </em>She would have gladly accepted a ceasefire.”</p><p>“The Void-damned Jedi happily preach peace while swinging a sabre at you, sure. Don’t underestimate the stubborn hypocrisy of their kind. I’ve dealt with her and her kind before. Her capacity for reason is by far eclipsed by her self-righteousness. Hoping for a Jedi to have an open mind was a risk I was not prepared to take in that situation.”</p><p>“You have faced her in battle?” Somehow, Theron doubted that, it would have appeared in a report, right? Not that Satele would have warned him or something, of course…</p><p>“Oh, wouldn’t that have been <em>interesting</em>.” Nox replied in a sing-song voice. “If I had, your mother would not be around, all stern wrinkles and lips pursed in disapproval.” Great, so his parentage was apparently common knowledge.</p><p>Why even try to deny it? “You’re well-informed.”</p><p>“Not necessarily. The resemblance is uncanny, and one would have to be rather emotionally stunted not to pick up on the tension. Not to mention the name. Family’s overrated, isn’t it?” When Theron did not reply – as if he’d voluntarily humour that choice of topic – the Sith continued, unfazed. “We merely had a pleasant chat about philosophy via holo-call a few years back. Anyway, no harm done, right? I stopped short of actually downing any ships.”</p><p>On-board explosions or equipment failures were still lethal, though.</p><p>Theron half-expected him to ask how it felt to be basically the reason for events turning out the fucked-up way they had, but the Sith stopped his diatribe there and contended himself with watching his Republic companion contemplatively instead of driving in the knife of latent guilt deeper.</p><p>After a few moments of awkward silence, Nox gestured around. “So, we are standing in the middle of a karking forest, wondering aloud whether we are a threat to each other, while our foes continue their preparations. The war has never truly benefited anyone, and its actual nature becomes all the more apparent as the Revanites’ role in all this is being revealed. I have no concrete proof yet, but there is more at stake than a return to the status quo of eternal warfare. You may hate me for my choice on Rishi, that’s your prerogative. Inconvenient as that might be, it does not make us enemies at the present.”</p><p>“Nevertheless, you seem to have given that scenario some serious thought.”</p><p>Right. That glint in the Mirialan’s golden eyes wasn’t disturbing at all. “Oh, I wouldn’t know about that. Technically, as a Dark Councillor, perhaps I am the one here who should be worried.”</p><p>“How so?” Theron wasn’t quite following his train of thought. Granted, it would speak volumes about his sanity if he could effortlessly comprehend a Sith’s twisted way of approaching the world.</p><p>“You have quite the impressive resume. Accomplishments rivalling those of our best Ciphers. Bearer of the Cross of Glory, ironically just like your notorious ancestor.” Nox gave his reluctant companion a terrifyingly cheerful sideways glance. “Don’t play coy with me, <em>Technoplague</em>.”</p><p><em> Inhibitory neurotransmitters release </em> <em> increased </em> <em> to 20%.</em> “Should this mean anything to me?” There was no indication of recognition in his voice, as the implant’s emotional regulatory circuits faithfully kicked in.</p><p>“Enjoy your little games, Shan. However, I won’t play along.”</p><p>Theron gave a quiet groan of defeat. “Is this … assumption … a common one?”</p><p>“I have my sources and having received some insight into Republic matters thanks to this joint operation, it’s not exactly hard to figure out. But others aren’t as resourceful. What I am saying is: Don’t worry about the Empire’s leadership coming after you personally once Revan is dealt with. Actually, you should be more concerned about Nine deciding to cut loose ends. I don’t know what you did to make him hate your guts when the two of you should’ve bonded over trading stories of assassinating Darths instead. Come to think of it, maybe he just hates everything SIS.” Nox paused as he turned towards him fully once more, his intense gaze imprinting itself into Theron’s retina, freezing the air in his lungs. Too karking <em>close</em>. “I look forward to seeing you in action, though. Another fact I’ve learned about you is that you dealt a crippling blow to a couple of slavery operation under the auspices of the Black Sun six years ago. Imagine, I was still at the academy during that time. You killed the leader of the Kha’tee’ran clan and practically his whole following.”</p><p>No harm in letting that much on, a partial hangout to gain a mark’s trust was an actual tried-and-proven technique. “Possibly. What’s that to do with-”</p><p>“Tell me, did he suffer?” Theron eye’s flickered towards the Sith’s clenched fists – had he unknowingly interfered with his operations in the past? But how was that possible if he hadn’t even been a Lord back then? Come to think it, how did one get on the Dark Council within the span of just a couple of years? He opened his mouth to ask, then to lie, before thinking better of it. Better to look dumb than to step into that blasted minefield.</p><p>“A pity.” Nox sighed dejectedly, consciously relaxing his posture. “If I had got to him first, his torment would have been exquisite.”</p><p>Not ominous...</p><p>“Anyway, ever since I learned of the fact of his death at your hands, I’ve been watching you with great interest, Agent Shan.”</p><p>...at all.</p><p>Salvaging the situation intelligence-wise was going to be a nightmare. “Hope I haven’t disappointed.”</p><p>“Quite the contrary. By the way, we’ve arrived. Should be more exciting than clearing the area around your sensors.”</p><p>“Coming from you, <em>e</em><em>xciting</em> is not the kind of description that makes me look forward to this.”</p><p>Nox examined the overgrown stone structure before them. “I don’t think so. I believe you enjoy taking risks, crave it, even.”</p><p>“I am not going to correct you.”</p><p>After a few seconds of silence, a rock slid aside at the Sith’s prompting. Theron peered into the dark cavernous construction that lay beyond. “After you, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Needless to say, their ideas of enjoyment differed wildly. Not entirely unexpected, but worth mentioning, if only for the record.</p><p>In his head.</p><p>For his own sanity.</p><p><em>Sanity</em>, though. That was exactly what Nox lacked. Especially considering the giddy glee with which he explored the underground temple’s remains. “It’s a good thing we came. This place is suffused  with the energy of ghosts...”</p><p>He stood in the middle of the circular room, in an apparent meditative stance, as if trying to attune himself to said energy. “Nothing tangible, though. Just...echoes. Vague threads.”</p><p>“So the power deteriorated over the millennia?” Theron wagered a guess.</p><p>“No. It seems to be by design. This place is, for all intents and purposes, a tomb. Still, no one coming here was already dead, nor did they intend or expect to die.” Yep, definitely a reason for leaving it alone. “Their unwillingness to die is what left the imprint. But instead of remaining whole, as a self-contained entity, their power was sucked up by the Temple. If Revan is utilising this accumulated energy to strengthen himself…”</p><p>Theron could see where he was going with this. “Would it make a difference if there were actual Force ghosts here?”</p><p>Nox lips curled up into a hungry smirk. “To me, yes. In general, probably not. Sith aren’t keen on dying, as you know. None of that “becoming one with the Force” nonsense to look forward to. So they cling to life – the temple exploits that for its own purposes. In other words, this place is <em>ravenous</em>. Imagine the possibilities of a large scale application of this concept.” The awe in his voice was only <em>slightly</em> worrying.</p><p>“So this place-”</p><p>“It’s ultimately a trap. Or, as I like to think of it, a challenge. The irony is that this is likely what has drawn myriads of explorers in, spurred on the vague promise of finding out what possible rewards lie at the end. Instead, they found oblivion.”</p><p>Not exactly what Theron had hoped for. “Well, I am reluctant to die here, too. Would blowing the structure up solve anything?”</p><p>“Not kriffing likely. The sheer Force vergence has already outgrown the confines of the ritual that created it in the first place. And besides… I suppose we might want to go outside before trying that approach?”</p><p>“We could just leave-” Theron turned around to point towards the entrance, but the opening created by moving aside a rock had been replaced by a solid wall as if had never been there. The Force didn't tend to serve him very well.</p><p>Nox made an apologetic gesture. “I wasn't kidding when I called it a trap.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Below ground, the Temple covered a far greater area than Theron could have imagined. As they progressed deeper into it, the challenge seemed to be “satisfying the temple’s demands”, according to the sorcerer. Well, he was happy to let Nox have fun, as long as his own involvement remained limited to shooting crazed wildlife while the Sith solved the puzzles the Temple threw at them. Or got zapped by what looked like lightning if he got the solution wrong.</p><p>They reached an empty dark-grey room, devoid of any hints as to what was required to advance, apart from an altar-like slab of stone in the middle.</p><p>“Heh. A boring one.”</p><p>“I highly doubt that.” Nox sighed, by now more weary than excited. Nevertheless, he bent over the obsidian stone pensively. Several minutes went by in excruciating silence, before the Sith eventually decided to blast it with some of his own lightning in frustration.</p><p>That went about as well as expected.</p><p>“Oh for…” Nox angrily slammed his fist into the altar, receiving yet another shock in response. When the convulsions had subsided, he turned towards Theron, eyeing him quizzically. “Do you have any knives with you?”</p><p>Um. Okay… “Several, actually.”</p><p>“One should suffice. I need to borrow it for a bit.”</p><p>“Regular, mono or vibroblade?”</p><p>The Darth raised a slightly impressed eyebrow. “Contrary to what it might look like, I do plan on surviving this. A vibroblade would be absolute overkill for what I have in mind. So, a normal one, no poison or other ‘special’ features, if you would.”</p><p>Shrugging, Theron unclipped the utility knife from his belt and cautiously handed it to Nox, who unsheathed it without further ado and drew the blade across his forearm. Without giving any indication of feeling pain, he held out his arm over the altar, angling it so that the surface of the pitch-black stone got covered by the blood, which was gushing from the wound in tune with his pulse.</p><p>Another ball of lightning emerged from the altar in response, hitting the Sith in the chest.</p><p>“<em>Kriff</em> these void-damned puzzles.” Nox snarled in frustration, trying to catch his breath. The bloodflow fortunately slowed to trickle within a few seconds. Well, his Sith companion bleeding out in here would have created all sorts of trouble.</p><p>Trying to wrap his head around what the heck he’d just witnessed, Theron watched the rest of the droplets fall to the floor, which soaked them up greedily. It was oddly soothing.</p><p>Yep, there was definitely something wrong with him.</p><p>“I thought you would be thrilled by the intellectual challenge?”</p><p>“A good assessment, but I generally enjoy <em>solving</em> these riddles, not getting shocked to the core for the umpteenth time. Let me assure you, that's far more excruciating than it looks.” As if on cue, the Sith gave an involuntary shudder that he awkwardly tried to mask by stretching afterwards.</p><p>“Doesn’t pain fuel the Dark Side? Shouldn’t this be exactly your kind of thing?”</p><p>“It does, but there are definitely better methods that don’t cause quite as much actual damage. To myself, at least.” He gave a lighthearted chuckle, but his voice sounded somewhat strained. “Mind you, I happen to like pain, just not in this kind of setting.”</p><p>Too much information, Theron sighed inwardly. Just his luck to get stuck with an oddly chatty and oversharing Sith. Not to mention kinky.</p><p>Nox suddenly turned around and threw the knife towards him, clearly not with the intention to injure him, but even so Theron had a hard time catching it by the now blood-slick handle. A good example of why the safe handling of potentially lethal weapons was an important concern. Generally. Not for a Sith, apparently.</p><p>“Hurt me.” To Theron’s horrified surprise, the sorcerer looked rather worse for wear – dark veins framed his glowing eyes like ravenous snakes and a thin rivulet of blood trickled sluggishly from his nostrils.</p><p>A startled <em> Huh </em>was all he got out in response.</p><p>“Enough to draw a significant amount of blood, but without crippling me.” Nox continued, undeterred. “I can heal most flesh wounds, but let’s refrain from causing significant internal haemorrhaging, shall we? I trust your training has equipped you for this task?”</p><p>“Um. Sure.” Very eloquent. Anyone else would have found his answer rather disconcerting. “Any ... anatomical differences I should be aware of?”</p><p>Nox rolled his eyes in annoyance. “No, and I am not asking you to <em> stab </em> me anywhere, so why would it matter how many hearts I have or whether I have tentacles for a cock?”</p><p>Yeah. Okay. How had their conversation deteriorated so fast? “You know, I <em> hadn’t </em> been wondering about that specifically. Especially the last bit.”</p><p>“Too bad. Anyway, what are you waiting for?”</p><p>Everything was so karking <em>wrong</em>.</p><p>Steeling himself in case the Sith lashed out at him for potentially fulfilling the command differently from what he had in mind – or at all – Theron took a few steps towards Nox and before either could think better of the insane plan, slashed him across the chest, not far from where the stoneray had injured him with his talons earlier. The other man’s eyes widened in surprise, before his expression morphed into something closer to fury. An invisible grip wrapped around Theron’s wrist and yanked it downwards with enough force to make him drop the knife, before he was shoved backwards violently, knocking the wind from his lungs.</p><p>Instinctively, he reached for his blaster. Before he could think of what actually to do with it, or think at all for that matter, the room was engulfed in a bright yellow light.</p><p>When it subsided, he was faced with a sickly pale Darth Nox.</p><p>“Well. It worked.” The sorcerer grit out, apparently as surprised as he was.</p><p>Stars. If that was his standard mode of operation, it was a Force-damned miracle the Sith was still alive.</p><p>“Great.” They both stared at the blaster in his hand for a few uncomfortable moments before Theron sheepishly put it away, trying to look as non-threatening as possible while doing so.</p><p>“Enjoyed yourself?” Nox asked while calmly appraising his latest injury.</p><p>“Not particularly. I am definitely not a sadist.”</p><p>“I didn’t take you for one, although I imagine there is something satisfactory about making another Dark Councillor bleed, isn’t there?”</p><p>“In that regard, I tend not to distinguish between Sith. Besides, Darth Karrid didn’t so much bleed as explode, I guess.” Unnecessary bragging in front one of her peers. Stupid. Just who was he trying to impress here?</p><p>“Sounds like you had a fun time. I am positively jealous.” A sharp edge glazed his tone. “Your response makes me wonder – as I stand here before you, am I just another Sith? Another enemy?”</p><p>“For the time being... well, not an enemy.”</p><p>“Hm. Flexible morals. I wonder just how flexible.”</p><p>There was the slightest bit of blood-stained teeth visible when Nox smiled, but Theron already felt like the man would devour him if he gave him the chance. Now, he’d do the prudent thing and refrain from taking any further risks. Definitely.</p><p>No need to encourage him.</p><p>“So, that kolto bandage…” Nox began carefully.</p><p>Theron did his best to refrain from rolling his eyes. “You’ll take it?”</p><p>“Absolutely.”</p><p>#~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~#</p><p>“Plenty of clues in <em>this</em> room.” Theron deadpanned.</p><p>All patched up and looking much less alarming now that his face was mostly back to normal, in as far as the skin corruption was concerned, Nox craned up his head to take in the elaborate – and rather explicit – murals painted on the ceiling and swallowed thickly. “It would appear so.”</p><p>Theron kept his distance as the sorcerer once more walked over to the altar at the centre of the room and knelt, examining the engraving beneath it.</p><p>The spy idly wondered whether one would require use of the Force to re-enact some of the scenes adorning the walls. Not that he personally wanted to try, but-</p><p>After a few minutes of silent contemplation or, more likely, mental masturbation, Nox leaned forward, head bowed in a kind of meditative stance, his breathing getting increasingly ragged. The air began to crackle around him, building up to a crescendo until another light exploded and a terrible cry echoed around the chamber. Nox doubled over in agony, panting out raspy breaths.</p><p>Yeah, looks like that was another dead-end approach.</p><p>“Um.” Having recovered control of his faculties after what seemed like an even longer time in comparison to the last time whatever he was doing had failed, the Sith cleared his throat rather awkwardly as he rose ever so slowly, almost languidly, if one ignored the pained twitches. “I really hate to ask, Agent Shan, but would you mind <em>terribly</em> giving me a hand this time?”</p><p>It couldn’t be request for a knife again, could it? Theron’s brain did a double take. The alternative interpretation made a terrifying amount of sense, considering the, ah, theme of their surroudings, but <em>surely</em> Nox was not implying he-</p><p>“Or mouth. I’m not picky. Actually, going by how the Temple wanted its demands fulfilled hitherto, it would be the safer bet.”</p><p>Okay, there went the last bit of uncertainty, but he absolutely had to ask. “Considering we’ve just met, that’s a bit … forward, isn’t it?”</p><p>“I am afraid asking you on a date or whatever you expect in terms of courtship is a somewhat difficult proposition right now. How about I make it up to you <em>later</em>? Revel has an impressive collection of sappy holo-movies, if that’s your thing.”</p><p>Theron just huffed in indignation. Ignoring the unwanted physical attraction was <em> easy </em> – however, Nox had the uncanny ability to get under his skin nevertheless.</p><p>The sorcerer was not happy with his non-answer. “Is it truly too much to ask for, when I’ve spared you any discomfort so far? As you are probably well aware, Sith tend to inflict pain on others rather more often than lowering themselves to the indignity of actively hurting themselves when a perfectly viable subject is at hand. That would be <em>you</em>, in case you weren’t following. For example, in that last room, I am 100% positive that the conventional – and intended – approach would have been to slice open a servant or whatever and toss him on the altar. This temple is rather particular about intent and the details of acting out the required scenario. So the solution wasn’t merely about something as superficial as blood or pain, but about injuring <em>somebody</em> <em>else</em>. Imagine the motif had been actual <em>sacrifice</em> instead. Would you have gladly volunteered then?” Nox explained, still oddly cheerful. “Not a threat at all, just pointing out that you got the better part of the deal so far.”</p><p>If that was supposed to be a reassuring tone, the Sith would need some serious brushing up on his social skills.</p><p>“That’s still a disturbingly matter-of-fact way of soliciting sexual acts.” A wave of panic rushed over him. It wasn’t actual fear, rather the inklings of introspection leading to what-is-wrong-with-me-for-even-considering-this.</p><p>“I wouldn’t know about that, I seldom have to ask.” The sorcerer failed to hide his sardonic grin. “Besides, something like this shouldn’t pose any moral problems for a spy, should it?”</p><p>“I don’t usually do honey-pot missions and the like. Not a major part of the SIS operations manual.” <em>Don’t engage the enemy in an intimate fashion, unless you absolute know what you are doing. </em>That’s what the advice boiled down to, at least in the edition Theron had received. Jonas seemed to go by a different handbook, making this kind of approach his standard operational procedure, but his fellow spy at least met the prerequisite of being skilled at relationships and deep inter-personal manipulation.</p><p>“Imperial Intelligence seems to have been a lot more exciting than the SIS, then.” Like hell it was. One look at Cipher Nine and Theron knew what must have happened to break someone so completely. A person remade from the ground up and twisted into a tool with brain-dead confidence, sleek lines and an enticing smile. And far too many poisoned vibroknives at their disposal. “You don’t get to have fun on the clock?”</p><p>“Lucky when I have the time to do so <em>off</em> the clock.” Theron rolled his eyes. “Do you?”</p><p>“Well, I make a point of not sleeping with my staff,” Theron made note of the minute twitch in Nox’ face. The man had no pazaak face whatsoever, likely the result of being accustomed to wearing a mask. “And occupation-wise, I usually deal with people whose are very much deceased.”</p><p>Oh, Stars, that can’t possibly imply necrophilia, can it- “As in literal <em>ghosts</em>, so I rarely get the opportunity to even consider that option, either.”</p><p>Phew.</p><p>“Look, I absolutely dislike the idea of forcing you to do this, but frankly I see no other way out of this place that wouldn’t be sure to kill us rather painfully. Of course, I would <em>gladly</em> switch roles with you,” Nox certainly looked like he meant it (<em>stop staring at his lips</em>) and wasn’t that worrying enough, “so you could be the one on the receiving end. Unfortunately, becoming the focal point of the required Force energy means you’ll also have to endure the Temple’s punishment if it turns out that’s <em>not</em> the intended solution to the puzzle, so … be my guest.”</p><p>As if reversing their positions was any more prudent. “How bad is it?” He was genuinely curious, though, about that bit at least.</p><p>“Let’s put it this way – I have an <em>extremely</em> high threshold for pain, but if I absolutely had to choose between getting zapped a few more times by this Force-forsaken temple or sucking, say, a Cathar dick...well, that would be a very easy decision, resulting in one happy Cathar.”</p><p>Not a healthy scenario by any means, considering some unpleasant details of that species’ particular anatomy. “Okay...point taken, I guess?” Kriff, he didn’t need this kind of imagery in his head.</p><p>“Therefore, count yourself lucky I <em>don’t</em> have barbs. Or, you know, tentacles.”</p><p>Small mercies.</p><p>After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, the sorcerer’s demeanour became much more demure of all sudden and he gave an almost shy smirk that threw Theron for a loop. “Awkward as it may be, rest assured it’s not the weirdest thing I’ve done and considering your accomplishments I’d wager that’s the case for you as well.”</p><p>As for pulling weird stunts, it really would be a toss-up between throwing a faulty blaster at a member of the Dark Council (in his underwear, though, thankfully nothing close to the current context) or sucking off one. The Sith, not the blaster. That would be a whole ‘nother department altogether.</p><p>“So...are we in agreement? Just close your eyes and think of the Republic if that helps?”</p><p>“Actually, that would be a major turn-off.” Against his better judgement, Theron did take a few steps closer to the Sith.</p><p>“Not an ardent patriot?”</p><p>“Not to the point of making a fetish of it, no? I mean - do you Imperials copulate on a crimson flag, saluting to each other when you come?” Theron shot back sarcastically.</p><p>Nox started giggling madly, and disconcertingly, it sounded very much in-character. Perhaps the strange euphoria and whiplash of moods wasn’t even the effect of repeatedly getting electrocuted - he might actually <em> always </em> be like that, Theron realised.</p><p>When the Sith had caught his breath, he remarked. “I’m sure <em> some </em> do. I go out of my way to avoid people whom I suspect of having such inclinations, so I wouldn’t be privy to any details.”</p><p>“Yeah, let me guess, you get off on tormenting people.”</p><p>“Not quite in the way you’re insinuating.” Nox affected a mock pout which he quickly dropped again. “How insulting, actually. I am not the monster you think I am. But yes, let’s discuss how I can make things any easier for you.” His indulgent smile sent a violent shiver down Theron’s spine. Definitely not the way he had imagined his day going.</p><p>Nox ran his hand through his hair. “Don’t.” Theron hissed, eliciting a disapproving tut from the Sith.</p><p>“I am surprised you’re so vain, Theron Shan.”</p><p>“I’d rather not return to the camp looking all messed up.”</p><p>“Ironic, that.” Nox clearly had every intention of wrecking him. “I can assure you, though, that no one will bat an eyelash at your future slightly dishevelled state when they see me, robes ripped and dripping with my own blood. This temple hasn’t been very accommodating.”</p><p>“Yours can’t be a healthy lifestyle.”</p><p>“It certainly isn’t. But it’s exhilarating.”</p><p>“Until it’s over.”</p><p>“Oh, I have no intention of dying anytime soon.” Underneath the typical bravado of supposed invincibility, there was a terrifyingly ominous undercurrent. Nox’s gloved fingers brushed over the stubble on Theron’s chin, leaving a tingling sensation in their path, before moving on to caress his collar bones with feathery touches. “So, what can I do for you?”</p><p>Right. It was actually happening.</p><p>While Theron got to his knees, he cranked up the neural stabiliser of his implant to calm his nerves. Overkill, that, as he wasn’t about to get tortured, but it helped with the residual anxiety. It had been a while, at any rate. “Just don’t...talk, will you?”</p><p>His companion shrugged casually, although his crooked smirk gave away his excitement. “Fair enough, considering you won’t be able to reply with my cock down your throat.”</p><p>No need to spell it out quite so crassly.</p><p>Focus. Purpose. Release all thoughts. Surrender.</p><p>Applying Jedi meditation techniques while giving a blowjob felt somewhat blasphemous, but Theron found he didn’t care overly much. Nox would probably find it highly amusing if he knew.</p><p>Frankly speaking, it wasn’t as terrible of a chore as he would like to pretend. Theron couldn’t claim to be irked by the abruptness of the whole situation arising, either. With his workload and ineptness at relationships, he simply hadn’t had time for anything beyond spontaneous hook-ups when his libido flared up, which was a bit of rarity in any case.</p><p>That wasn’t the unusual part. The issue lay with who his partner was – there were rather narrowly defined rules from sleeping with an enemy for intel, and this didn’t fit the bill. Broadly speaking, their survival was on the line, but still…</p><p>Extreme caution was advised in all cases, but that failed to take into account someone with Nox’ reputation for murder and general mayhem.</p><p>He had expected the encounter to turn rough practically immediately, so he struggled to hide his surprise at the restraint and calm the councillor exhibited. The way he – rather gently, in fact – threaded his fingers into Theron’s hair. Was he imagining things, or was there something electric about his touch?</p><p>Before long, dark energies began to swirl around them, engulfing them in a suffocating embrace.</p><p>He found that he didn’t even mind the taste. Not that he had many points of reference, but the slightly floral, even fruity, tang was rather more pleasant than the musky pungence of human come or the overwhelming saltiness of Nautolan slick. He wasn’t terribly adventurous in that regard, but -</p><p>There was no time to dwell on such odd thoughts popping into his head, as immediately after they were finished, all pandemonium broke loose.</p><p>#~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~#</p><p>“Might take half an hour or so for them to arrive, though.”</p><p>“I can be patient if necessary. Unless you’d rather <em>walk</em> back through the valley in the pouring rain. Honestly, I appreciate getting a bit of rest after this ordeal.”</p><p>After making the holocall, Theron ducked back under their makeshift shelter. It was quite a trek, after all...</p><p>“Agent Shan.” Nox drawled softly. “It would be remiss of me not to reciprocate.”</p><p>Another innocently detached sentence fraught with implications that had Theron’s brain short-circuit. The sorcerer had a knack for those. “Indulge me, this once.”</p><p>“Sure, what could go wrong?”</p><p>Nox shook his head, putting on a veneer of fake sadness. “Aren’t you ever the optimist? You really know how to make a man feel wanted.”</p><p>He was no stranger to bad decisions. “It’s not like this day could get much crazier than it already is, so I am open to your offer.”</p><p>Even as they spoke, nimble fingers made short work of his belt. “I’ll take that.” With that, all wry smirks and sultry eye-contact, he went to work. Rather expertly, Theron had to admit, so at least he would not have to worry for too long about anyone stumbling in on them – as if -, although Nox did his utmost to torture him.</p><p>Wrong turn of phrase, considering who exactly was kneeling before him.</p><p>A vicious impulse overcame him and he placed his hands at the back of the Mirialan’s head, pulling him closer relentlessly until he gagged slightly. Surprise flashed in Nox’ eyes before morphing into absolute delight. He allowed himself to be manhandled, impressively managing to sneer derisively around the cock hitting the back of his throat repeatedly, but continued his ministrations without complaining. Enjoying it immensely, in fact, if his quiet but positively lewd moans were anything to go by. Coupled with the sight of the young Sith kneeling before him, clearly happy to act sluttily, that was almost enough to take Theron over the edge.</p><p>The Sith was definitely more experienced at this than he was, Theron thought with a flash of jealousy. He wished he had something to hold onto to steady himself as he felt his climax approaching and indeed his knees buckled when the waves of pleasure began washing over him.</p><p>Nox licked his fingers clean with a satisfied grin before putting his black gloves back on. “A shame we had to do this in such an exposed setting. I would have liked to hear every little sound you make.”</p><p>“Could we just… not talk about this again? Preferably ever.”</p><p>“Of course.” The Sith replied affably. “However, I think we both learned something new about ourselves today.” He leaned closer to whisper in Theron’s ear. “I regret nothing.”</p><p>#~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~#</p><p>The trip back to the camp had been uneventful, as far as Nox was concerned. The debrief went smoothly, too, although the sorcerer kept treating Theron like a detestable maggot. So much so that Satele felt she had to intervene on his behalf, to which Nox responded by abruptly leaving the meeting, ostensibly seething with fury. A crude diversionary tactic, but an effective one. She probably suspected nothing.</p><p>In the distance, Wrath gave him a somewhat reproachful look before wordlessly heading back towards the Imperial encampment. Behind her, Vette, her ever-present sidekick and one-woman cheering squad, grudgingly handed over a credit chip to the broad-shouldered officer standing with her. Both summarily received a stern telling-off from the Sith, although Theron could not make out what about.</p><p>Oh but of-kriffing-course.</p><p>In hindsight, a warning would have been nice, but he wasn’t going to bring it up to their commander’s face.</p><p>He had enough of Sith shenanigans for the day.</p><p>Actually, for a lifetime, all things considered. But he was unlikely to get much of a choice in the matter.</p><p><br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Nathema immortality trap concept had to have a historic precursor.</p><p>Alternative quote -<br/>SI: I had to sacrifice seven tuk’ata and eat their hearts.<br/>Zash: Really? How strange. It didn’t work when I tried it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Flashover</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<p></p><div class="mail-message expanded"><p> </p>
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      <em>"I just love assassinating assassins. They look so surprised<b>." </b></em>
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      <strong>17 ATC, Nar Shaddaa</strong>
    </p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The reason for the puzzling radio silence was on clear display before him. Bits of transparisteel crunched under the soles of his boots as Theron Shan took another cautious step forward, scanning the room for traps or hidden assailants. The gaudy lights of the Nikto Sector’s mismatched array of shops and various filtered in through the partially open outer gates behind him, illuminating the scene in incongruously cheerful hues.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>In the centre of the room, neatly positioned to face the entrance, sat a middle-aged Twi’lek, blood pooling around the bound feet. His head was tipped back, exposing the gaping slash on his throat. The other two agents had been killed in arguably less flashy ways – a human female sat limply with her upper body hunched over on a console, unblinking eyes staring resentfully into Theron’s direction. Her Rodian colleague lay curled up on the ground beside her, his twisted position and the residual foam around his mouth indicating an excruciating, slow death, perhaps from poison or electrocution.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The room was clean. Oddly, not even a bug had been planted to observe the aftermath of this carnage, at least as far as Theron could tell. Nevertheless, he felt exposed, like someone was watching him from afar, perhaps revelling in his surprise at finding the safehouse in a state of disarray and horror. He had taken sufficient precautions against being ambushed, though. Theron took a deep breath, simultaneously amping up the adrenaline regulation activity of his cranial implant and continued his exploration.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Something was off. Not counting the fact that there were three bodies in place of the alive SIS agents manning the outpost. At first glance, it looked like ImpInt handiwork alright, down to minor details like the way the Twi’lek had been tied to the chair, ostensibly for interrogation. Marring the picture of the trademark methodical thoroughness was how haphazardly the attackers had cleaned up and rearranged various pieces of furniture afterwards – taking their time in an attempt to control the overall setting, but then failing to remove evidence of their involvement. What exactly was it that they wanted him to think?</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Besides, no Cipher would have made enough of a mess in the first place to require a substantial amount of actual aftercare of the scene, especially when they had to know someone was inbound to examine the situation.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>That much was a given – they were the ones to fabricate the call for back-up that Theron had answered in the first place. Judging from the state of the bodies, none of the SIS agents could’ve been alive still at the time the frantic plea had reached him. At the very least, it clearly spelled out the fact that they had ample time to themselves at the outpost – more time than Theron would have deemed necessary to get the room into its current state, even if he had been the perpetrator of the attack. What they used that advantage for remained a mystery.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Determining the true culprit would likely require a more thorough investigation than he could afford at the moment. If other cells were in danger of being exposed as well… He had to act on his well-honed professional instinct alone.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>What irked him tremendously was that the scene appeared staged, amateurish, in a sense. Now that certainly didn't imply that ImpInt or whatever their latest iteration called itself wasn’t responsible for this – the skill level of their agents certainly varied widely -, but the far more troubling realisation was that the safehouse wasn't the unknown assailants ultimate target. They had more far-reaching goals, having him get involved on purpose but then not taking the opportunity to knife him promptly upon arrival.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Of course, he certainly wasn’t in the clear just yet, but if they had intended to maximise the body count by taking out anyone responding to the emergency call… well, they could’ve done that already, with little effort. Or at least attempted to do so.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>A bit of poison gas goes a long way, and in contrast to tripwires or mines, his cybernetics wouldn’t pick up on the less commonly used substances – or only when it was too late, depending on concentration and location.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>It was hardly a security thing, either. It would be extremely foolish to expect an outside agent to have access codes when those present at the outpost didn’t. As a senior agent, Theron most likely did have a higher clearance level than any of the three dead colleagues, he hadn’t had the opportunity to run their IDs yet, but the perpetrator could not have counted on that.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Or have targeted him specifically, could they?</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>He had not come to Nar Shaddaa for a major op, instead simply to catch up with a few contacts who might be able to give insight into the inner workings of the ‘Eternal Empire’.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Speaking of which… although he could not rule out the possibility, Zakuul was unlikely to be behind the attack. Theron gently pried the female agent’s arm off the controls, suppressing a wince when her body slid off the chair with a wet thud, and began to slice into the system, purposely not accessing it with his regular credentials so as not to trigger any booby traps possibly awaiting the unsuspecting user. A single out-of-place file caught his attention.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Coordinates.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Now that was quite heavy-handed, wasn’t it? Way too on the nose.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Time to spring the trap.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The cyberlink in his ear screeched to life as he approached the spot, assaulting him with overwhelming targeted noise that left him disoriented for the split second it took his auditory convertor to tune it down. Walked straight into that, he chastised himself mentally. To his right, two figures armed with blasters appeared, their faces covered.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Theron ducked into another alley and walked down it at a brisk pace. They did not appear to follow him, but he could make out the faint glint of a scope on the rooftop near the end of the alley. Barely any opportunities for taking cover in the immediate vicinity, so he ducked under the awning of a dilapidated shop. It would not protect him, but at least afford him a few seconds to get a more comprehensive overview of the situation. At least until they identified him as a threat.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Careful not to raise suspicions considering that his unknown opponents might not have noticed his presence yet, he surveyed the area. A few steps from his hiding place were the remains of an emergency ladder. Even though it looked barely serviceable, it would be sufficient to allow him to get up to the roof, too, without being exposed to the sniper. He dashed forward, jumping a little to catch the ladder’s frame, his climbing gloves latching on to the rusty metal. After a brief climb, he was on the same level as the potential opponent. Weaving his way through crates and signal amplifier arrays, he crept towards the sniper’s position.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The moment he placed his blaster muzzle on the back of the kneeling Rodian’s head, an explosion went off close behind them, forcing Theron to roll out of the blast radius to avoid being hit by shrapnel – or worse. Blaster still in head, he scrambled to take cover as shots rang out nearby. Without aiming, he fired off a burst of shots into the general direction of his now multiple attackers. Not a single breath later, the air was filled with a wild barrage of blaster bolts that made him think twice about peeking out from behind the crate he pressed his back against. A crate which was slowly getting whittled away by the relentless suppression fire. He had been in worse situations, certainly, but Stars had his day deteriorated quickly-</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>In front of him, a figure stepped through the noxious fumes streaming out from a circular opening in the floor, maybe a ventilation shaft, and acting on reflex alone, Theron fired off a toxic dart without hesitation. The dart bounced off the figure’s heavy armour with a little ping, causing him to take aim with his blaster instead. Before he could pull the trigger, the cloaked figure gracefully leapt over him. A blur of colours reflecting off the armour plates, they flew through the air towards the group of assailants coming after him. The telltale snap-hiss of lightsabres being activated was followed by the sound of sizzling flesh, before a discordant mix of cries and grunts reached his ears. The cacophony of battle died down not soon after, leaving only the familiar hum of a sabre emitter behind.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Agent Shan. I have neutralised your opponents. You can come out safely. I mean you no harm.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>At least one of those statements appeared to be true. The twin lightsabres of the tall Force user – Theron could not see their face, but judging from the shape of their hood, he was dealing with a Togruta – cast a pale silvery hue over the bodies piling up around them. Not the height of subtlety or trademark Jedi restraint, but efficient, he had to admit. Unfortunately, it ruled out getting any information out of his attackers.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>To make matters worse, his worries were confirmed – his identity was known, at least to whomever had stepped in ostensibly to save him.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Of course, this could just be another layer of deception, but the purpose of such an overly elaborate plot still eluded him.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Who are you?” He called out, remaining in his crouched position.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“My master tasked me with your protection.” Now while that did not answer his question at all, it provided a much-needed glimpse into who else was involved.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Sighing quietly, the Togruta thumbed off their sabres and clicked them to their utility belt before removing the cowl.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The woman’s bright blue eyes exuded nothing but kindness when she addressed him again. “My master warned me that your trust would not be won easily.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“It would be easier to trust you if you told me what is going on.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“It is not my place to tell.” She replied cryptically, her tone carrying the submissive attitude of a good little Jedi. Maybe a bit to old to be a padawan still, but it was not unheard of... “He asks to meet you in a public place, if that assuages your concerns. Club Obscura, perhaps you’re familiar with it?” A strange expression, perhaps one of disapproval, ghosted over her face while she stated that. “It’s located to the north-east of the Promenade, between the Casino Strip and the Red Light Sector.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>One of the seedier clubs, then, Theron deduced from the location alone. A Jedi would stand out in such a setting like a purple bantha.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Seeing as it was his only lead, there was no harm in following his unexpected protector’s directions, was there?</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>As it turned out, with his purposely unassuming and casual outfit Theron did not exactly blend in with the clientele, either, for the simple reason that Club Obscura was a fetish club.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Now he hadn’t seen that one coming.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Although, due to the delicate nature of the more, well, obscure offerings there, the place would be ideal for those seeking privacy, as few people would admit to frequenting an establishment where public spanking and people in various stages of bondage were as ubiquitous as naked flesh was in a strip club. The choice of location made some amount of sense, but still, that had to be one heck of an open-minded Jedi master.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Or not a Jedi, after all.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>An unrecognisable sensation twisted in his stomach when he cautiously approached the somewhat secluded booth the Togruta warrior had indicated before vanishing into the sooty night of Nar Shaddaa. The lips of its sole occupant curled up in a wry smirk by way of greeting as Theron froze on the spot.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>It was a patently unprofessional reaction, albeit an excusable one, considering who was sitting in front of him, leisurely sprawled on the settee with the comfortably settled-in air of a regular.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>In hindsight, the location should have been warning enough.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I am glad you could make it. I was beginning to wonder whether my apprentice had failed – or if you had decided to make a run for it after recognising her.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Too late to run now, was it? He would not even make it past the bar before a snap of Darth Nox’ finger would cause his face to make involuntary contact with the impeccably polished black floor. Or worse. A night spend together – well, more like three hours, to be precise - probably wasn’t sufficient to make the Sith go easy on him. He failed to come up with anything that would be.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>So he did the prudent thing and sat down as the Sith had requested with a lazy gesture, albeit at a respectful distance.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I suppose that confirms the Empire’s involvement.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Nox shrugged languidly, sinking deeper into the cushioning, perfectly at ease. “In as much as I represent the Empire as a whole, which strikes me as odd reasoning. Oh well, I thought you’d figured things out already. What’s your take on the situation, Agent Shan?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Three dead agents in a safehouse. Investigation goes off the deep end. And then your apprentice sweeps in to save the day? Certainly not pure happenstance. Just -why? Doesn’t look like your usual mode of operation.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“An astute observation. Might be because I am not behind any of that. Apart from sending my dear Ashara to make you you don’t get in over your head.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Karking obvious coordinates, and now this fluke of an explanation? People had to think the SIS were a bunch of stupid nerf-herders. “Your presence is too much of coincidence. Even I believed that you’d go out of your way to protect me from whatever threat you have yet to elaborate on, I’d be insane to assume that you don’t have ulterior motives for it.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Sanity is a fickle thing.” The sorcerer purred menacingly, his haughty smile having vanished even as Theron spoke. “And I would question yours, considering you have the gall to insult me. To hurt my feelings.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Very dramatic, certainly. “Feelings? That’s something you do?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“How clichè.” Nox arched a derisive eyebrow at him. “Watched too many holodramas, Agent?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I guess I’ll have to revise my lines, then. But holodramas? I certainly don’t have the time. Thought that was more your thing.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“We all have our vices.” The Sith replied, with the detachedness of someone making a false admission. “What makes you think I am lying, though? Cause I’m known for my involvement in mundane things like Intelligence ops? Not kriffing likely.” He picked up a bottle from the shyrack nest-shaped obsidian bowl on the table and held it towards Theron so he could catch a glimpse of the quaint label. “Fancy a drink?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The liquor had the exact colour of freshly spilled human blood, just before the oxidation turned it a darker shade. The agent’s stomach did an uncomfortable somersault. “Thanks, I’ll pass.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Would be a pity to waste this.” Undeterred by Theron’s reply, he poured two generous glasses. “I’ve been trying to cut down lately.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Moderation seemed unlike the Sith. “Why?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“A few sips are fine to savour the taste, but going beyond that… I can’t afford to get inebriated to the point where it alters perception and reflexes, if you catch my meaning.” Nox admitted, apparently indifferent to the fact that he was confiding in a Republic spy. Although how much truth his explanations held was another matter. “Too much of a risk. Under those circumstances, it just doesn’t have the same appeal. Besides, I’ve found other outlets for pain and the like, no need to numb my mind anymore like I did before, deceived by the hapless naivete of youth.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>That was...wow. Unexpected, to say the least. Well, he could work with that… provided that he could find a way to put into the Sith’s dossier without having to explain how exactly he acquired the intel. “Fine, indulge me. What is this?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>SIS consensus on Nox was that he was a bit of a loose cannon in every regard, though Theron suspected that was the internal opinion on the councillor in the Empire as well, as much as people could afford to have an opinion there. Standing orders were not to engage under any circumstances, just observe if at all possible, and yet here he was, sitting across from the Mirialan, who had certainly dressed up for the occasion. A form-hugging black vest with far more elaborate clasps than necessary to hold the skimpy garment together, coupled with a matching skirt-robe whose strategic cut-outs revealed glossy trousers, tightly fitting him like a second skin. Nox had filled out a little from when they’d last met – and hadn’t Theron got a good look of the Sith’s body in the last hours before the end of the truce – and while it seemed to be mostly lean tissue, his bones no longer protruded as prominently.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Young Tionese wine. One of the last batches produced on V’alat, before Arcann razed the entire continent.” His face, however, was somewhat more gaunt, and even though Theron suspected make-up was involved in highlighting the cheekbones, it was an indicator that Nox hadn’t simply withdrawn to lead a life in the lap of what little luxury higher ranking Imperials could still afford since the power dynamics in the galaxy had shifted considerably in their disfavour.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Also, not poisoned. I think we’re past such concerns.” And of course the sorcerer had noticed his surreptitious attempt to check for dangerous ingredients. “Don't insult me further.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Reluctantly, Theron raised the glass in a silent toast and took a tentative sip, barely wetting his lips with the sweet and slightly prickling drink. “Well, care to tell me what’s going on?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Straight to the point as per usual. It seems I was misguided in my hopes for a calm evening spent in pleasant company.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Calm. Yeah, right. “Depends on your answer, I guess.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Ah, that sounds promising.” Nox chuckled airily. “I have nothing to hide. Firstly, the Empire has no part in any of this, I daresay we could not care less about proceedings in Hutt Space at the moment – I am surprised the Republic has the resources to spare to conduct Intelligence operations here, as evidenced by the presence of a high-profile agent. Someone worked very hard to make us get involved, though. The new False Emperor’s minions have shaken up the power structure of the underworld. In the chaos, an ambitious group has risen, a conglomerate of those who’ve always envied the Hutts’ success. What easier way to take over Nar Shaddaa than to create an enormous diversion by making the two already weakened Intelligence services tear each other apart on neutral ground? The fallout from that would dispose the Hutts against both factions, wrecking the economy further. On top of that, Zakuul has no need to get involved because it plays into their hands, too.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Why do you care?” Although it made a terrifying amount of sense, Theron was not convinced that explanation covered the full extent of the situation.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Suffice to say, I don’t want the Empire to waste resources on a small scale proxy war. Vitiate toying with the Empire and Republic alike for his narcissistic entertainment has wrought enough havoc already.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Woah, don’t tell me you’ve suddenly turned into a pacifist?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Not in the most fundamental sense of the term. But that conflict in particular was a sham from the very beginning. Neither side could ever have emerged triumphantly, making it a pointless distraction from the pursuit of true, lasting power, just as intended. Trillions died in what turned out was not the clash of two vastly different civilisations vying for total control of the known galaxy, a bloody contest to see who is superior, worthy of ultimate glory, and which population is more dedicated to their ideals. Their deaths only served to feed, hilariously in a rather literal way, the self-aggrandising gluttony and perversion of one who fashions himself nothing less than a god.” Nox’ voice was dripping with the venom of righteous fury. “And we, pathetic little creatures with the mindset of slaves that we are, danced to his tune in lock-step.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Didn’t serve him well in terms of immortality, though.” Theron interjected to lighten the mood. Nox getting all worked up in anger was hardly to the benefit of anyone.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The dark look the Sith gave him in response was unreadable. “We’ll get to that.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Okay, let’s assume you’ve just told me the truth-” Nox rolled his eyes derisively at his scepticism, “how did you learn about all this?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I have a bit of a … network planet-side. My contacts told me about the upheaval in the power structure and I decided to make sure my favourite agent would not get caught up in the mess.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Theron was oddly flattered by that, although the reasoning was somewhat worrying. “But coming yourself was beneath you?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Business first, unfortunately. I was on somewhat of a schedule and did not have the time to trail you for days. Besides, I am not going to let Ashara lead any negotiations in my stead ever again.” Sounded like there was an interesting story behind that, judging from the equally frustrated and fond way Nox spoke about his apprentice. “She is clearly more suited to full-on combat, and that’s what was the situation eventually called for.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>As grateful as Theron was for her assistance, the thought of the Togruta watching him since his arrival without him noticing was an extremely unsettling one. “She would make a convincing Jedi.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“She will be delighted to hear that.” Nox delivered that statement without a hint of irony. Well, he was obviously more than just a little crazy, so why should his apprentices be any different?</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“She seemed unhappy with your choice of venue for this meeting, though.” Theron wagered in an attempt to get more insight into their relationship. Apprentices in particular were good vectors for stirring up things in the Sith hierarchy. Not that he was trying to get such leads on Nox, but more information always meant more flexibility in dealing with people.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“It’s a pity, really. Years of trying to get her to loosen up – to no avail.” The sorcerer wrinkled his nose in displeasure. “The Jedi really did a number on her.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>What did the Jedi Order have to do with the morals of a Sith apprentice, though?</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Gesturing around, Theron commented, “You know, I wish I could claim to be surprised by your inclinations.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“What might surprise you is that I don’t participate,” came the unapologetic reply. “I simply come here to watch. To study the dynamics. People’s responses to various stimuli.” A purely academic pursuit. Sounded reasonable. “Anything caught your interest?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Some practices remind me of anti-interrogation training.” No good memories came with that topic in general, but then again, few people would claim to enjoy pain. One such exception was sitting right next to him.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“For example, if that guy shifted his weight towards his heels,” Theron pointed towards a couple a few booths from them, “he’d be in considerably less agony.” Not that the squealing Chiss patron strapped to an inherently unpleasant looking metal contraption would appreciate his professional opinion.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Hm. Flexsteel is somewhat conductive. I am wondering how he’d scream if-”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Didn’t you say you refrain from participating?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Well, I do have a vivid imagination.” Nox glanced towards his companion, a hungry glint in his eyes. “If this already makes you squeamish… The stuff that goes on in public is rather tame in comparison to the individual booths.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Theron vowed not to find out any particulars. He’d seen enough gore for the day that morning. “Speaking of privacy – isn’t it a huge risk for you to come here? I can easily justify my presence,” Orders to not engage notwithstanding, “but if you’re seeing casually chatting with an enemy-”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Considering my reputation, it’s unlikely to cause much of a stir. In any case the scandal would be wasting money on frivolous activities, rather than meeting with a Pub agent.” The Mirialan drained the rest of his drink and turned to leave, indicating for Theron to get up as well. “But on that note… I’ve rented a room upstairs. It’s been a rather eventful day, wouldn't you say, and we could both need some rest. Join me?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Theron swallowed heavily. "You know, this is a bad idea."</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I find those are usually the best.” He winked mirthfully as he beckoned Theron to follow.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The moment the door closed behind them, Nox’ hand slithered over Theron’s shoulder, giving it a playful squeeze. “You can sweep for listening devices openly, darling. I checked the room earlier, seeing as I do care about my privacy. Admittedly, much as I would like to have a reminder of our encounter... I am not stupid enough to create a recording of fucking a Republic spook."</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>At least Nox was clear about his intentions. Not that Theron had doubted where his invitation would lead.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“So, let’s get to the most important topic of the evening.” The Mirialan sat down on the edge of the bed, the room’s undisputed centrepiece, patting the space next to him. After placing his jacket on a low table near the foot of the enormous circular bed, Theron complied, his mind racing with a curious mixture of anticipation and low-grade revulsion of himself for being so utterly foolish. If anything, it made him more desperate for the other man’s attentions. The sorcerer had been right about one thing back on Yavin 4 - his presence brought out a strange side in Theron, shamefully craving validation and destruction alike under the merciless hands of the younger man.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Nox licked his lips, slowly, before speaking up. “The Wrath.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Theron turned to stare at Nox, aghast, before clearing his throat awkwardly. “Well, you got me there. I didn’t expect you to continue our conversation here.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The Sith clapped his hands in delight. “Ah, the sense of accomplishment at having surprised a spy. You should see your face.” Fingers ghosting over the other man’s lower lip, he continued, “This part of the discussion is too politically sensitive for the public space.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Actually, it was much easier this way, keeping things strictly professional between them. “So, the Empire found a replacement?” The confusion the mixed signals Nox was sending with his continued teasing simply had to be ignored.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“No. Continuing Vitiate’s traditions is the least of our worries. I am referring to our mutual friend.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Theron sighed defeatedly. “She is dead. What is there to discuss?” At least he was in his element just talking, although it was difficult to concentrate with the way Nox leaned into him, radiating an electrifying coldness that sent a shiver down his spine.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“So very much. Don't tell me you actually believe the official story?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The caresses moved to Theron’s thighs. Just another distraction to tune out.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“We’ve had no means of independently verifying Zakuul’s claims, but our analysts concluded that the footing of the execution was not tampered with. Have you found any evidence to the contrary? They have every reason to mislead us, sure, but what makes you doubt they didn’t kill Wrath? Do you have intel to suggest she’s still out there?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I don't know what happened, that’s the thing.” With a snarl, Nox jumped to his feet and began pacing, balling his fists in frustration. “But I can’t have gone down the way Arcann claims. I felt Marr’s passing, pretty much every half-competent Sith or Jedi did - but hers? Nothing. As if she was significantly weaker than Marr. Few if any Force sensitives knew her better than I, with the exception of her apprentice, perhaps, but that poor girl went insane, she's no use. Killed everyone I sent after her and eviscerated them. Last I heard she was busy carving a path through supposed Light-sided Sith that in her view weakened the Empire to the point of being a blight in the Emperor's eyes…”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“If she’s lost hope that her master could be brought back-” Theron interjected, finding that he could breathe more easily again. He absolutely did not mourn the sudden loss of contact.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Hope? No, more like she is convinced she’s free now that her master can’t hold her liable for her behaviour.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Either way, what only makes it more likely that Zayathris is actually dead.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“You trust an insane girl on a murder spree over my intuition?” Nox scoffed.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Pot calling the kettle black, much?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The Sith chuckled darkly. “With that attitude, you’re not likely to get laid tonight, dear.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Honestly? That was the last thing I expected to be still in the realm of being possible today.” And yet he tried to convince himself that he’d be better off if it didn’t come to this. His body, however, begged to differ. An improvement to suggest to the implant maintenance dep’t – add a convenient routine to squash unwelcome boners. It was not impossible to achieve even with the current version, but the rapid hormonal release tended to cause jitters and outright paranoia. Very unhelpful side-effects for most covert ops. That was bound to be a fun discussion. “Let me guess – the Empire isn’t doing much to investigate the matter?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Very observant, Shan. Most likely they don't want to stir up things politically with Zakuul. Which is kriffing pathetic, but at the moment neither Republic not Empire is in any position to take on Arcann and the sheer limitless resources he has at his disposal. Personally, I suspect that Acina would feel threatened by her predecessor’s foremost executor, too. The Wrath was a powerful figure with a considerable powerbase. Acina made it from Head of the Sphere of Technology to Empress fairly quickly, her path paved by various suspicious disappearances. She has a vested interest in keeping potential contenders nice and dead.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“And despite the volatility of your leadership you’re still a Councillor? I thought you’d have the ambition to take her position, honestly.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Would you have expected me to become Emperor … or to end up dead?” Expression unreadable, Nox turned around and slowly approached Theron, nonchalantly parting his legs by wedging a knee between them. “The ambition? Yes. But I am not a fool. What would I be ruling over? A dying leviathan of a society, lacking the resources and willingness to implement any reforms. The Empress has begun to reshape some aspects, but that’s more a question of expediency than principle.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The Sith lowered himself so that he straddled Theron’s thighs and absent-mindedly removed his gloves while he spoke. “While Arcann is holding us all hostage to his whims, there is no point in even trying. Which brings me back to my original point. Zayathris supposedly assassinated Vitiate... or Valkorion, whatever the former Emperor fashioned himself there, only to be captured? Can you picture how that battle would have gone? You are familiar with her brutal and reckless fighting style, there’s no way either her opponents or, in the unlikely case of her losing, she would have survived. Despite her whimsical concept of honour, she wouldn’t just accept defeat and let herself be placed in custody.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Officially, she caught Valkorion by surprise, stabbing him while pretending to swear fealty. Arcann, having sensed her duplicity, cut off her hands, but not in time to save his father.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Convenient, huh?” Nox chuckled, tracing the outline of Theron’s biceps. “Besides, it reeks of grasping at straws to make the story appear plausible. And that brings us to the alleged death of the Emperor.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Theron gave an incredulous huff that might have come out sounding more like a whimper. “So basically no one died, except Marr?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Oh, there were some casualties alright, and that poor decoy during the public execution had her head lopped off for sure.” Another shiver ran down Theron’s spine when the Sith began grinding his hips against his, while casually carrying on with the conversation as if he was not as just worked up as his partner. “As much as I admire the Wrath’s skills, I don’t for a second believe that she managed to kill off the Emperor for good. Some Jedi pup claimed they did a couple of years ago, and he just came back in a different body. Look at the bare facts – how does Zayathris fight? With a sabre, and blunt force. She is woefully ill-equipped to do anything about enemies that have long transcended the physical constraints of existence.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“You think Valkorion can’t be killed?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I mean that he would not allow that to happen - I wouldn’t and I have not consumed entire planets’ worth of peoples’ Force essences. He’d have provisions in place to ensure that fatal injuries to his host body don’t lead to the destruction of his spirit.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Let’s assume your suspicions are correct – what do you think did happen?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I have no idea, beyond that I am sure he managed to endure, especially with two viable bodies close at hand. That they belong to people he has an intimate connection to makes things much easier – it doesn’t matter that they probably hate him. Strong emotions facilitate the transfer, no need for consent. By the same token, even a weak-minded Jedi is more difficult to take over than a strong-minded, but passionate Sith.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Ah, the inherent fuckedupness of the Dark Side.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Nox gently divested Theron of his shirt before turning his attention to the other man’s nipples. “Neither of them has shown up in any form. I doubt Zayathris would voluntarily serve either Valkorion or Arcann. Which points to the latter being the one pulling the strings. Whether he’s himself or a vessel for his father remains to be seen.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“The alternative -”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Is where it gets much weirder. But Arcann would want to keep her locked up all the same in that case.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Theron barely suppressed a moan, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Why are you telling me this? I mean, there are things that could be utilised against you, or the Empire…”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Nox threw his head back, his whole body shaking with a throaty laugh. “If anything I’ve told you gives the SIS an edge for moving against Imperial assets, those were undeserving weaklings to begin with.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>That was one way of putting it.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I need you to utilise your contacts. There have to be ways of getting reliable information on internal matters on Zakuul, I refuse to believe they’re that good – their main advantage was that we weren’t aware of their presence. As for the rest, if it was Vitiate’s goal to create a society even more pathetic and corrupt than the Empire, he succeeded spectacularly. Rotten trees bear rotten fruit, I suppose. I thought Lord Beniko might share my doubts, but she turned out to be a dead end – then again, I suppose she would not trust me enough to share whether she’s made any inroads. She hasn’t reached out to you, has she?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Reluctantly, Theron shook his head.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“A pity. I do have my own sources, but still, they're limited to the Imperial side of things, and that's beleaguered by the issue of keeping quiet about all of this. Well, consider what I’ve told you and make your decision. Later, though. I fully intend to make the most of our fortuitous meeting.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Theron found himself agreeing with an enthusiasm he was surprised by, but the fact that the sorcerer had captured his mouth in a demanding kiss made it impossible to voice his opinions on the matter.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>+#########+</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Thoughts were little more than a quiet buzz, just beyond the scope of his consciousness. They failed to linger, finding no hold on the pleasure-coated surface of Theron’s mind. If that bore any similarity to the state Force users experienced when sinking deep into meditation, they were enviable indeed.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Time was of no importance, and neither was the soreness slowly settling into his muscles, nor the coldness of drying fluids on his stomach.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Perhaps the stim shot Nox had offered they both take was to blame for his blissed out state, but his partner had assured him the substance did not have any mind-altering effects on top of its alleged main purpose of “improving stamina and shortening the refractory period”.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>It was safe to say that it had worked incredibly well. And he would regret it the next day for certain.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Theron was startled out of his slowly fading reverie by sudden jostling next to him. Fingers abruptly disentangled from his. Before he had realised what was going on, Nox was already stumbling towards the pile of his clothes. He had thrown on a billowing outer robe and was fiddling with the belt, before giving up with a rough curse, realising that he had grabbed Theron’s, which he could not cinch as narrowly as was necessary to hold his clothes together with any semblance of propriety. He twisted the utility belt around itself haphazardly while making his way to farthest corner of the room, before hurriedly calling his beeping comm unit into his hand. With an annoyed snarl, he slammed it on a side table, angling it so that the bed was outside of its pickup range and pressed a button to answer the insistent call.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>His face schooled into a faint approximation of respectfulness, the Councillor gave a slight bow. “Empress.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Darth Nox. How kind of you to respond, if only after ignoring my servants for several hours.” The woman responded in a raspy drawl that gave away no emotion.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I was busy. What would have been the point in responding while the details had not been finalised yet?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I shudder to imagine what you were actually busy with.” Giving the councillor a disapproving once over, she made a dismissive gesture to smother any attempts at an explanation. “Has the deal gone in our favour?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Indeed it has. The supply has been secured for two years at the very least. However, it might well take three months for the first shipments to arrive-”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“This is unacceptable.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I am not your errand boy, your Highness.” Nox spat, clearly struggling to keep his composure. “While I am glad to have personal assets to utilise for the greater good of our glorious Empire, and endeavours like this does not even fall under the purview of my Sphere-”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I see.” Acina replied, eyes lighting up with malice. “I’d hate having to question the usefulness of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge in these dire times.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Oh, we should discuss this in person. I’d hate having to question the legitimacy of your position.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The heavily armoured woman chuckled haughtly. “I believe we’ve ‘discussed’ this issue sufficiently, Nox. Let’s focus on keeping the Empire running as is our shared responsibility, shall we? Unless Arcann lifts the embargo on a whim, the fact remains: We do not have three months. Our troops-”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Keeping his eyes from wandering into Theron's direction, Nox gave a shaky sigh that betrayed his internal conflict. “Might I suggest continuing this call from my ship, your Highness?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The Empress looked vaguely alarmed. “Do you have company?”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“No, but planetary communications on Nar Shaddaa are a frequent target of rogue <em>slicers</em>. I’d prefer to use a more secure connection for such a sensitive topic.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Very well. Do not keep me waiting.” The holo collapsed immediately and without missing a beat Nox crushed it with the Force, before turning around and staring at Theron with a look of indecision.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“Aaand that’s my clue to leave, I take it…” Provided leaving, alive, was still an option after overhearing a heated, classified exchange between a Dark Councillor and the kriffing Empress.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>“I am afraid that would be for the best.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The response could have been significantly worse, however, Theron was under no illusion that he was in the clear just yet. Nox watched him get dressed in silence, radiating tension, but he remained rooted to the spot after tossing the belt on the floor between them for Theron to pick up.</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>The door had almost closed behind him when the Mirialan called out dejectedly, “Don’t you dare forget.”</p></div><div class="mail-message-header spacer"><p>Only when he had reached the safety of his ship did Theron take note of the double, no, triple, meaning of the Sith’s parting words.</p></div></div>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Burst Noise – Part I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"Live is as empty without terror as without love. But while chaos can be beautiful...it cannot last." ---Vitiate</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>22 ATC, Dromund Kaas</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The young officer lingered in the doorway after the appointment, causing Nox to eventually tear his eyes away from the holographic model of the Rakatan artefact that he had been studying. It was difficult to imagine how anything of immediate use could be gleaned from it, but nevertheless it was one of the more interesting finds in the backlog of the few excavations they had conducted before the galaxy had changed trajectory, plummeting into precisely the kind of disadvantageous chaos he loathed.</p><p> </p><p>With chiselled features, astute eyes and pale skin, the lieutenant would not appear out of place in any propaganda holo. In other words, yet another unremarkable pretty face in a drab uniform. He stood at parade rest, stiff-backed, his nervous twitches giving away his discomfort. Normally, people were prudent enough not to risk their lives over nothing, so they would just leave swiftly as soon as they were dismissed. Nox preferred it that way, too. Fewer distractions and the less mindless socialising with his servants he had to endure, the better.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, someone had to be the exception to the rule. Nox could sense his conflict, a delicious undercurrent of fear. It was utterly puzzling how the young man had managed to obtain the position of Ilun’s adjutant. Unless… well, he could ask the colonel later if any extraordinary favours had been involved in the selection process. Considering the nature of their relationship, he would not begrudge him seeking out the affections of other men, but the possibility that the Imperial officer was swayed in his decision-making by such superficialities was a rather disappointing one.</p><p> </p><p>“My lord, I simply wish to convey how grateful I am for the opportunity to serve you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Naturally. However, why do you feel you need to mention this to my face?” The behavioural oddity intrigued him almost as much as the miniature glowing in blueish hues in front of him. Besides, one could learn a lot about people by looking at whom they chose to surround themselves with. Considering that those closest to you tended to pose the greatest threat, any insight into what Ilun was motivated by was certainly useful. Not that he expected any betrayal from one of his most prized officers in the near future, but the unforeseen was exactly the kind of thing that tended to get you killed. In a highly embarrassing way, too.</p><p> </p><p>The lieutenant clearly suppressed the natural impulse to back away when Nox approached him, cloak trailing over the floor behind him, and came to stand within arms range. “Well?” An impressive display of conscious control over his physical responses. Suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>“Colonel Ilun instructed me to take care of your needs.”</p><p> </p><p>Now that did not give him the impression of being a falsehood, but Nox did not like the subtle undertone one bit.</p><p> </p><p>“Such as?”</p><p> </p><p>The Imperial swallowed audibly before replying. “He did not specify, my lord.” In the unlikely case he was telling the truth, punishment would await Ilun upon his return. Not the kind that he was going to enjoy, though. The very idea of such presumptuous initiative was anathema to the councillor. The colonel could be somewhat overbearing at times, fussing over Nox in a mostly unwelcome way, but their astonishingly perfect bedroom dynamics more than made up for such minor inconveniences. Now, if only Ilun could be trained to limit experimentation with his occasional dominant inclinations to their time alone … well, they were working on it.</p><p> </p><p>For the time being, the councillor decided to go with the assumption that the lieutenant had decided to go above and beyond his regular duties on his own accord. Only the Force knew why he had to put up with such people all the time. Not that he believed the Force was an entity in the sense that it could know things- oh well, he was veering off course. He could have an in-depth philosophical debate in his own head later.</p><p> </p><p>Power was an aphrodisiac, certainly, at least for Imperials… Perhaps that phenomenon was the cause for the tendency of most Sith to take the Dark Side corrupting their features in stride – at least it kept unwanted admirers at bay. That said, it was not an option for Nox. He had come to like the way he looked, and took great care to ensure that his appearance was not marred by the strain more powerful and arcane techniques tended to put on one’s body. Zash had been most helpful in that regard.</p><p> </p><p>Exchanging beauty secrets, that’s what you did with your technically dead former master inhabiting the grotesque body of a Dashade, right?</p><p> </p><p>A little vanity was hardly a vice in comparison to most other things he occupied himself with. His body was an exquisite canvas, but ultimately little more than a regrettably mortal vessel for his spirit, not the finely tuned tool warriors treated their bodies as by sheer existential necessity. His power on the other hand went far beyond the physical and if having a pleasant face made it easier to sway people to see things his way, he’d be foolish not to capitalise on that.</p><p> </p><p>The scars on his body… they were another matter, but so far, no lover had dared complain to his face. Or even ask.</p><p> </p><p>In contrast, Ilun had happily added a few of his own design.</p><p> </p><p>“I wonder if you’re exceptionally bold or incredibly stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>“Meekness does not open any doors.” The lieutenant stated flatly, with an unexpected hint of defiance.</p><p> </p><p>“Where would you like to get?” Nox asked in a low voice, tracing the outline of the silver rank insignia on the man’s uniform. The answer was blatantly obvious by now, but of course they had to play this annoying little game.</p><p> </p><p>People really did the weirdest things.</p><p> </p><p>Nox liked the challenge of reducing them to their most common denominator – regardless of their personality, training or approach to life, they all reliably ended up screaming and begging when he was done with them. In a way, it was very reassuring. The invariability of fear. The inevitability of agony. And the small nuanced way in which people differed in their reactions was certainly more interesting than listening to their inane chatter about mundane things.</p><p> </p><p>Blissfully unaware of Nox’ musings, the lieutenant blinked nervously, finally daring to make eye contact. He bit his lower lip in what might have been a seductive gesture, as was probably intended, if it hadn’t been for the curious mix of unease and resolve radiating off him.</p><p> </p><p>“Ilun has voiced nothing but praise for you. I am beginning to get the impression that his faith in you might have been misplaced?”</p><p> </p><p>Peals of sweat appeared on his forehead. “I am confident that I can perform any tasks required to your satisfaction.”</p><p> </p><p>Nox let out an incredulous huff. “We shall see.”</p><p> </p><p>Bold and stupid, then.</p><p> </p><p>Well, <strike>some most</strike> people were just a waste of oxygen, that could not be helped. Except in a rather permanent way, but he had resolved not to be extravagant with sentient life given the current political climate.</p><p> </p><p>The lieutenant was quivering in his boots as he tried not to wonder what was going through Nox’ head when he did not elaborate what he might want the younger man to do.</p><p> </p><p>On the flip side, the officer’s dogged determination was definitely admirable. And rather worrying, in the grand scheme of things. Not just because he apparently was under the impression that he would get away without repercussions in case his gambit failed. Was he perceived as more harmless because of his species?</p><p>Nox could not imagine anyone having approached, say, Marr or Jadus with such misguided intentions. Vowrawn would probably take up the offer and make the unlucky fool participate in one of his infamous parties. Not that Nox had first-hand knowledge of what that entailed - he had not responded to the invite the other councillor had sent to him shortly after his ascension. The rather obvious fact aside that he was not gullible enough to give his colleague any compromising material of himself, the sheer crassness of the rumoured ongoings was off-putting. He preferred things a tad more <em>intimate</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Hush now, imagination. No need to ruin a perfectly pleasant morning.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, look at that.</p><p>The lieutenant was <em>still</em> there.</p><p> </p><p>#~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~#</p><p> </p><p>Almost every Imperial officer prided himself on discipline. Principles like appropriate conduct. Orderliness. Or punctuality.</p><p> </p><p>Ilun was certainly struggling with that last one. At least he was aware of his repeated failings, as evidenced by the - admittedly adorable - blush on his high cheekbones when he rushed into Darth Nox’ office, apologising profusely while he set down a large cylindrical container on a free spot on the councillors’ desk. Without looking up from his datapad, Nox pulled up a chair with the Force and motioned for the officer to sit.</p><p>“Wait while I finish reading this one. Gives you a few minutes to come up with an appropriate way to make amends for being late. Yet. Again. Just so know, if I anticipated my duties taking significantly longer, I’d have you kneel beside me the entire time.”</p><p>The officer allowed for a small excited smirk beneath the deferential facade. “In my defence, the delay was caused by a the difficulty of hailing a speeder outside the Ja’grotthu District.”</p><p>“Language, Colonel.”</p><p>Ilun lowered his head submissively. “...etymology is not my strong suit, my lord.”</p><p>“I know it is the official moniker, but suffice it to say the term’s not just an umbrella term for those without Imperial ancestry. What were you doing there?”</p><p>The older man reached for the container and fiddled with the locking mechanism to remove the lid, revealing a lavish platter of food consisting of a myriad of smaller bowls with colourful contents.</p><p>Nox gave a quiet, bemused chuckle. “You got me <em>Mirialan</em> food?”</p><p>“I hope that was not presumptuous. I merely-”</p><p>“No, it’s fine. More than that, actually. I’m more impressed you ventured into an area populated primarily by aliens. In your uniform no less.”</p><p>“Frankly, I’ve gone there before. You’d be surprised how many fellow Imperials frequent the district, caps pulled into their faces to avoid being recognised. Mostly for the brothels, I’d wager, but still…” Ilun gave a lackadaisical shrug. “I did not stand out as much as one would expect, is what I’m saying.” He trailed off, realising that work had absorbed the Sith attention once more.</p><p>“Go ahead, you’ll get my full attention in a moment.”</p><p>Ilun gestured towards the datapad. “Ziost again?”</p><p>“Hm.” Nox hummed absent-mindedly, scrolling through the report. “The indicators are piling up that it was a trap Vitiate had prepared well in advance. He certainly played the long game. Unfortunately I didn’t have the opportunity to study the immediate effects.”</p><p>“I for one am glad you weren’t there. Everyone who made it out of that inferno… just by sheer luck. All life simply...disintegrated, from what I heard. I’d rather get blown up by a grenade than suffer something like that.” Ilun shuddered violently at the very thought.</p><p>“Well, I do think it was a rather quick, painless death, if you ignore the possible metaphysical repercussions of getting sucked up by Vitiate. I wouldn’t want to be part of his essence, but that probably goes both ways.”</p><p>“You’d be a really annoying Force ghost, if you don't mind me saying that.”</p><p>“Oh, do tell me more about it.” Scowling, Nox tapped his forehead. “But it does make you wonder. He had ample time to set up something similar on Dromund Kaas, which he allegedly rediscovered for the wandering Imperial Remnant… or somewhere we would not expect at all. Why would he leave loose ends once his experiment got out of control?”</p><p>“A pity the rest of the Council does not share your suspicions. There have been more than a few complaints that this exploration does not fall under your Sphere’s scope.”</p><p>“I fail to understand why the opposition is so vocal. We’re in our element here, digging among dust of the past. There is much knowledge to be gained from studying our ancient home, which constituted the cold heart of the Empire for centuries after Adas’ reign.”</p><p>“Regardless, it gets more difficult to receive funding by the day. There seems to have been another “unnecessary” casualty, too.”</p><p>“Well, my orders were indeed not to send anyone born there or with other attachments that could compromise them.” Eyes still fixed on his reading, Nox reached for a puffy, slightly charred flatbread, scooping up a small amount of the colourful side dishes arranged like petals around an assortment of steamed or baked flatbreads. “One of the investigators inadvertently stumbling over the remains of his family business despite these precautions could hardly be anticipated.”</p><p>Ilun followed suit, dipping a piece of bread into a one of the chunky sauces. “I hear he volunteered in spite of the regulations.”</p><p>“See, that’s what happens when people refuse to listen to me. Speaking of which, do be careful with the yellow one.” His casual admonition came a moment to late. Ilun gave a startled gasp, chasing the offending bite with a liberal spoonful of the most innocuous white sauce to counteract the unexpected spiciness.</p><p>Nox looked up to take in the officers reaction, his wry smirk morphing into a sadistic grin. “That’s not a dairy-based cream, it's not going to neutralise-"</p><p>Ilun had realised his grave mistake already, bursting into a coughing fit that made tears stream down his cheeks.</p><p>“I’d appreciate an advance warning next time, my lord,” he ground out, gingerly daubing at his face with a tissue.</p><p>“I thought you like to experiment. Besides, <em>you</em> chose the side dishes.”</p><p>“Playing the test subject is more your kink, I just come up with the ideas.” The officer gave his superior a provocative smile. “They did say it was spicy, but how could I tell that it’s basically Korriban-level spicy? I’m fine with the spicier variant of Kaasi cuisine, but this...”</p><p>“Maybe they made it extra spicy to mess with you. You know, revenge for hundreds of years of oppression.”</p><p>“They wouldn’t dare.”</p><p>“Why shouldn’t they? A truly alien-hating officer – ubiquitous superiority complex and objectification aside - would be unlikely to venture in that district and sample the culinary offerings there. Also, most Imperials can’t tell individual non-humans apart anyway, and carpet-bombing a part of Kaas City is definitely an unreasonable response to excessively spicy food.”</p><p>“And that’s coming from you, my lord,” Ilun gave an affectionate smirk when Nox rolled his eyes at the jab. “Well, it would certainly be a setback. We haven’t even restored all of the buildings that were destroyed in Arcann’s attack.”</p><p> </p><p>They ate in companionable silence, with Nox ravenously scooping up the richer side dishes as if he had been fasting for days. “Don’t tell me you forgot to eat again. Liquor is not a replacement for actual food.”</p><p>“I say the same thing about MREs, but so far High Command has not heeded my suggestions. Oh, and <em>don’t</em> patronise me, colonel.”</p><p>Ilun winched at the unmistakably threatening tone. “Sincerest apologies, my lord. I simply do not wish for you to end up like Darth Kargus.”</p><p>“I’m not quite that paranoid.” The councillor countered in mock offense.</p><p>“Hopefully not, Kargus starved<em> to death</em>. That it happened because he assumed literally everything was poisoned by his enemies is where the similarity ends, I will concede that.”</p><p>Nox shrugged indifferently. “If he could not sustain himself on the Dark Side alone, he was too weak – the lack of nutrition is a secondary issue in that case. I’ve gone for weeks before and was fine. Mind over body. If I had any physical hunger cues to remind me, it would be much easier, but I guess I am lucky you keep bringing me exquisite dishes. Speaking of ‘taking care of needs’, I’d like to talk about your adjutant. He’s left quite a unique impression.”</p><p>“Lt. Farselth? What about him? I spoke to him just this morning, he gave no indication his standing in for me went anything but smoothly.”</p><p>“I suppose that depends on how far you expected him to, ah, replace you. Did you by any chance give him special instructions?”</p><p>“Um. No?” Ilun’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Nothing I’d consider out of the ordinary. Do you have any complaints about him?”</p><p>“I suppose he made sexual advances on his own accord then. I mean, I get that I am hot, you tell me that at every opportunity after all, but I have a hard time imagining anyone who’s not borderline insane – or beyond that, actually – taking the risk to proposition a Dark Councillor just to advance his career. Most of the time, people of his status try their utmost not to get my attention.”</p><p>“Oh.” A strange succession of emotions flashed on his face. “Well. Ahem. Thank you for not killing him on the spot, my lord. Replacing him on such short notice would have been quite a headache.” He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress the question so obvious from his expression alone, but ultimately curiosity got the better of him. “May I enquire whether-”</p><p>“No,” came the Sith’s sharp reply.</p><p>“<em>No</em> as in ‘Don’t ask’, or that you didn’t...”</p><p>Nox merely gave him a reproachful stare in response.</p><p>“Uh. I see… At any rate, that’s quite the weird development.”</p><p>“How so?”</p><p>“He attempted to seduce me in the past. Naturally, I declined and let it slide, merely reprimanding him verbally, because he is undeniably competent and zealous. Never gave any indication of disloyalty or toxic ambitions.”</p><p>“Far be it from me to take exception to passion, but I doubt indiscriminate horniness is a useful quality in a higher ranking officer. Ensure it does not interfere with his work.”</p><p>“I shall watch him intently, something about his behaviour gives me cause for alarm, but I can’t quite put my finger on it...” Ilun scratched his chin in contemplation. “Beyond the obvious fact that it’s unbecoming for an officer.”</p><p>“Oh, darling, that’s not hypocritical of you at all considering how you knelt before me on Balmorra.”</p><p>“Well, I wasn’t wrong in my assessment, was I?” The Imperial reached out to touch Nox’ knee, his hand immediately dipping below the soft fabric of the skirt layer.</p><p>“No, and it helps that your confidence is well deserved.”</p><p>“Oh, the pressure of living up to such high praise.”</p><p>His golden eyes twinkling with mischief, Nox rose and shed his robe in one fluid motion before beginning to remove his tunic. “Well, here’s your opportunity."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Grotthu is the slave caste of ancient Red Sith society.</p><p>The food described is something similar to an Indian Thali.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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